Love Needs a Heart Like Mine
by egyouppt
Summary: it's just thinking, he knows, but it's hard. But he wants to do the right thing. He just needs to figure out what it is first-Finn and Rachel and things that are hard to say and things that are harder to feel. Post 2x15, now semi-AU and complete.
1. Darkness Before the Dawn

**A/N:** _hi everyone ^^ this is post 2x15, so contains spoilers for that if you haven't seen it yet, as well as possible spoilers/promo stuff/speculation for 2x16. It'll be multi-chaptered. and I really hope you like where this is going and if you could let me know, that would be awesome and I'd be eternally grateful._

_thanks to tiltingaxis for being my beta and to my twitter and tumblr friends for inspiring me._

_disclaimer: I still don't own Glee, but I'm working on it!_

* * *

He doesn't know okay? Sure maybe he knows a few more words now, but that's about it. He doesn't really know _why_ he's here. But it feels good, just like kissing her and stuff. Why should he deny it? He's a dude and they were a thing once. He doesn't really know what they are _now._ Are they dating? He doesn't think so. Because aside from the sneaking around her house and make out and discussions about being prom king and queen, they don't do, well _anything._ They don't hold hands or go on dates and glance at each other meaningfully. They barely even talk. And he knows what it's like to have a girlfriend, hell; he knows what it's like to have _Quinn _as his girlfriend.

And it's really not like this, so he guesses that no, they're not dating. But you know what? Maybe that's better. There's no being cheated on or cheating for, there's just hands and lips and skin and hickeys and maybe that's what he needs. Okay, so he actually doesn't know what he needs, but trial and error is as good a process of finding out as any other, right? So he keeps biting her neck, wondering why he's actually still thinking when he's in her bed and her hands are in his hair and stuff, but then Finn figures maybe it's just one of those times when his brain won't shut up. The thing is, he's just pretty good at ignoring what it tells him. Or what he thinks it's telling him.

The confusing thing, he guesses, is forgiveness. He guesses he forgives her 'cause it's not like he wants to cry every time he sees her anymore or anything. But then there's the whole if he can forgive Quinn, why can't he forgive Rachel? Or maybe he has forgiven her too 'cause he doesn't feel mad like he used to. Just…a little emptier. But really, she's doing so well on her own right now and really shining and he _knows_ her songs are going to be gold because a girl who's had her heart broken so many times has a story to tell. He's probably doing her a favor then, he thinks. But all this thinking and crap is making him tired so he yawns and smiles sleepily at Quinn, who just urges him to lie down and tells him it's okay to take a nap for a bit. He doesn't argue.

He wakes up to the sound of a car horn or something and he really hopes her mom isn't home. See, just 'cause Quinn's living with her mom again doesn't mean everything's all fine and dandy all the time. Quinn has to follow all these really strict rules, one of them being no boys over when her mom isn't home. And if they get caught…well, he doesn't know what will happen, but he doubts it'll be good. And then Quinn will blame it all on him because that's how she's always been…huh. He ignores that for now like he ignores all the harder things to think about and smiles when she assures him her mom won't be home for hours still.

He sees that he's left this pretty obvious hickey on her neck and promises he'll be more careful next time. _Next time._ He doesn't know when or how or why next time will be or if he does, that's not what his thoughts are focused on. Even though there's a small part of his brain screaming that this was never how his relationship with Quinn was before. Sure, they made out and stuff, but there was never just the cuddling and the tenderness and—and that was all just _Rachel_ stuff, or rather _Rachel and Finn_ stuff. Well, he doesn't know if it's a holdover from that or maybe he's changed and Quinn's changed so they've changed together. _Nnngg._ Too much thinking, he tells his brain. Too much thinking and not enough kissing and stuff. But she's talking about campaigning for prom king and queen again and it just kinda hurts because that's not why he's here, he _does_ know that.

"…But that's not all this is about though, right?" he asks, dreading the answer. It's only like the fourth time she's brought it up today and the fortieth since they've been together but not really _together_ together again. So yeah, it worries him. And it worries him a little more when she hesitates, but then she says how she made a mistake with Puck and her first time should have been with him, _Finn._ It makes him feel a little better at least, even there's still that shred of fear buried in him. But that can wait until later, can't it?

"There is where I belong," she tells him, touching his face. And he can't remember ever seeing her so nice before. "With you. Okay?"

"'Kay." Then they're kissing again so it's easy to act like everything's fine, even if he doesn't know what he should or shouldn't know or think of feel. But she looks pretty and he misses someone telling him he's good even if he can't bring himself to really believe it. And least not…not for _her._ But Quinn? Quinn is…well, he's good enough for Quinn right? She just wants to get her life back together, even if she's not as strong or as brave or as talented as Rachel. Because he doesn't feel like he's living in a shadow of her, even though he knows Rachel never tried or wanted to make him feel like that. It's just…_she's_ just…so—so _big._ Not literally, of course. She's kinda a midget and really skinny, but her presence and everything about her is just so big and overwhelming and destined for greater things. Greater things than he thinks he'd ever be able to give her. With Quinn, it's just easier because she might rule the school, or be on her way to it anyway. But Rachel, _Rachel_ is gonna rule the damn world.

How can he even compete with that?

He leaves an hour later 'cause he just doesn't wanna take chances with her mom and if he ever wants to hang out there again _in secrecy cause you're not together Finn don't get ahead of yourself you know what happens when you do that_ then he figures he better get out. Besides, she has like homework or something, that's what she says anyway, and he thinks she whispers something about shopping for prom dresses and tuxes, but he's not totally sure because he's not really paying attention. He kisses her lightly before slipping out her front door and walking to the street corner where he'd parked his truck.

_Prom King._ It's a nice idea, he supposes. And it would boost his rep, although he's pretty high on the food chain already at the moment. Not that his head is quite as big about it as it once was—mono is a pretty good deterrent for that shit. But sure, he'll take advantage of it because since he's got pretty much nothing else going on in his life, at least he's on top. Right?

Well, whatever. It's just all a lot of thinking and stuff and that's not really what he's good at. He's good at drumming and football and…and being the guy who lets himself screw up a lot. Maybe not his best quality, but there you have it.

He gives up on his geometry homework because geometry is stupid and it's not like he can ask Quinn to help him. He'd always asked Rachel before to help him, when they were dating and stuff. He knows they're still friends and he could probably call her and she'd even probably say yes. But it just feels wrong. He's done enough bothering her. And what if she makes small talk, asks what he's been up to? He can't lie to her. He'd done that enough and even though they're not together, he still thinks the whole "no more lies" thing should apply; otherwise it makes it hard to even be friends. And he doesn't wanna have to see the hurt in her eyes when he says he's been with Quinn. 'Cause in all honesty, he doesn't wanna hurt her and he's not doing this, this _thing_ with Quinn, to spite Rachel. He's just…exploring. Isn't that what high school is about?

But by that line of thinking, maybe the prom king thing isn't such a good idea. Like, if he and Quinn were to win (and he thinks they would probably have a good chance) and he got up there and accepted it and danced with Quinn? He doesn't think he'd be able to face Rachel after that either. Then again, if he ever wants to get over her, he can't keep letting her affect everything he does in life. And maybe he questions how much he wants to get over her, questions it a lot because there's still no one like Rachel Berry. But what choice does he have?

She's Rachel and she has everything to live for, even and especially when she gets out of this shitty ass town. But him? If he even manages to get out of Lima, what's he gonna have to show for it? At least if he's prom king, he'll have something to show for it, even if just a fake shiny crown and a handful of memories of what it felt like to be on top. Still…

He'll sleep on it, he decides. He's just sleepy, that's all.

* * *

School's going okay. He got a B on his Spanish quiz, so he's feeling okay about that. He says hi to Rachel and she waves at him, smiling widely, but she doesn't stop. That's the thing, she never stops. She just keeps going and going and shining so bright that sometimes it puts him to shame that he ever tried to hold her back. What was he even thinking?

He doesn't say hi to Quinn, though. But he doesn't see her except at glee rehearsal and by then they're all busy anyway because there are songs to be song and dances to be learned and he realizes that life doesn't slow down just because you can't keep up with it. He looks around and feels the tension. It's not him, not really anyway. Rachel is engrossed in writing something in her notebook at Mr. Schue drones on about something or other that he thinks is supposed to be a motivational speech, but Santana and Brittany are sitting on opposite corners of the room and he thinks it's really weird, but he doesn't know what it means.

And then he hears it.

"We're doing original songs for Regionals." Finn looks up at his teacher and then he's grinning because Rachel looks so happy and so proud and it's nice that they're finally starting to see how valuable she really is. And he glances at her and she turns her head and sees him looking, so she smiles back, but he sees something weird in her eyes that he can't quite decipher, but it clears away before he can try to analyze it further.

Rachel stands in front of them all, barely able to contain her excitement. "I just want to say," she announces, "that I'm proud to have you all singing the songs I've prepared and I can't wait for you to hear them. I'll have copies of the sheet music for everyone tomorrow."

He hears Quinn snort and he frowns, but he doesn't think Rachel even notices it because she's talking to Mr. Schuester about choreography, so he doesn't say anything.

After the hallways have cleared and he's about to head out to the parking lot, he sees Quinn approaching him, smiling in that way that probably means she wants something. But then she usually wants something, so maybe it's the way she smiles all the time. He's not gonna think about that one right now either because at least someone is talking to him.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hey. So I was wondering what you were doing this weekend?" She looks up at him, biting her lip, and it reminds him of how Rachel would do that and—he shakes his head as if that will help clear his mind or something (though really logic isn't his forte, so he's not overly surprised when it doesn't actually work all that well).

"Uh," he replies. "I don't…why? What's up?" He wonders if she's going to ask him to finally go out and maybe then they'll actually be dating or something. He doesn't know if it's a good idea, but he doesn't know if it's a bad one either because most of his ideas he just ends up throwing away anyway, no matter what he or anyone else thinks about them.

"Well, I was talking to my mom and prom dresses are going fast, so I thought I would go this weekend. And I—_we_ could pick out a tux for you too, as we'll have to match. You can't be prom king and queen without being coordinated, so—what's wrong, Finn?"

He knows he's just staring stupidly at her, but what's he supposed to do? Prom is like two months away and it's only Tuesday today, and he doesn't plan ahead like she does. And she's always making these decisions and he doesn't know if it's what he wants or not, but—"Wait," he says. "We have Regionals this weekend, Quinn." He frowns again.

"I know, silly. But we could always go on Sunday. There'll be less people there anyway and we can think about it as a way to celebrate our win at Regionals." She then mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "That is if Rachel's songs aren't _terrible,_" but he can't be sure, which is probably the point. Because even though there's some kind of nice Quinn, she's always never stopped at anything to get what she wants. And she doesn't know Rachel like he does, so she doesn't know that her songs are going to be awesome because she just wants to prove to everyone that she can do this.

"Her songs are gonna be good," he assures her. "And yeah, sure. Just, like, text me what time or something."

Quinn rolls her eyes at his first statement, and his brow furrows, but then she brightens and says she'll see him later.

She doesn't kiss him, she doesn't squeeze his hand. She doesn't acknowledge him apart from just saying that. It bothers him, but he lets it slide. After all, he set himself up for this because he's Finn and she's Quinn and even though it's not the same this time around, it's not totally different either. He just has to get used to it all again. It's hard, you know? Being by himself. He doesn't like it, doesn't like having to think about all the things that hurt and bruise and scrape. So he's safe here—with Quinn. Just like before. And the little stings and pricks of being with her, they're easier to deal with and let heal than the gaping wounds that he still hasn't patched up or thought much about ways to do so without re-opening them all. So he just drives home, listening to Dashboard Confessional because he knows how to relate to it and he promised Burt he'd take the trash out tonight and stuff.

He's not sure if Quinn means to have sex with him, but she kinda seems to imply it. But didn't she just, like, rejoin the celibacy club? Then again, that doesn't really matter, he knows. Not just 'cause she was in the celibacy club and gave it up to Puck—he doesn't wanna think about that anymore; he's not sure it matters. But he remembers his brief stint in the celibacy club and pretty much none of those guys were virgins, except probably the Jewfro kid. He remembers that time Rachel came in and called the celibacy club a joke because girls want sex as much as guys do. But then he wonders what changed. Not that he'd ever wanted to push her when they dated, but she turned a little prude-y. Maybe it's because of what happened (or didn't happen, whatever) with Jesse. But he remembers hearing her talking about how she's joined the celibacy club again, so he guesses maybe she's just had a change of heart. Or mind. Or something. Which he can relate to because he _knows_ how it sucks when sex doesn't mean anything, even if that's a really girly way to look at it.

Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this because it's not like sex and Rachel in the same sentence is an option for him. He thinks maybe sex with Quinn is, this time. He just hopes if (when?) it comes up, it's not something where she's gonna dump him afterward. But then again, they're not dating, remember Finn? So it's not like she _could_ dump him properly. So it would mean something, but he doesn't know what. And he doesn't know if it would be recurring. Would they just be hookups to her? Would it just be hookups to _him?_ He's not really that kind of guy though, is he? He guesses he could be if he tried. But there was a reason he never really tried. Puck may have been his best friend before (and sort-of friend again) but he'd never been able to get behind the lifestyle, though he could enjoy celebrating the conquests or whatever. But he likes the idea of just having a girl.

Maybe he could ask Quinn to be his girlfriend…mmm, maybe not. He doesn't wanna upset her if that's not what she wants. 'Cause when they were together, honestly, _she'd_ been the one to ask him out—or demand, really. So she always needs to be in control. And if she wanted Finn to be her boyfriend, she would have told him, right?

But damnit, what about him? What about what he wants? He wishes he knew what he wanted because it would make life so much simpler to deal with _without_ dodging around the tough parts like he's become a pro at doing. But he knows from experience you can't always get what you want anyway, so maybe it's just another thing that doesn't matter or he's going to pretend doesn't matter. He used to pretend he was happy with where he was in his life. He's sure he can do it again.

It's not the hardest thing he's ever had to do.

* * *

The week is dragging by really slowly. Like _really_ slowly, like his skin is crawling slow _a little too much time like forcing me to think and it just _hurts_ okay so time just be faster because I just want to win will it make things better again?_ and it's sort of depressing. It's Thursday though and Regionals are on Saturday and he's pretty pumped about that, at least. Because Rachel's songs _are_ gold. They're more than awesome. Well, the ones he's heard anyway. He knows she's saving at least one as a ballad to perform herself (and she deserves it because she _wrote_ them and he's just really proud of her) that she's keeping as a secret for now. He has to admit, his curiosity is piqued, but he hasn't asked her to show him because she's Rachel and is by definition stubborn and determined. But that's okay too, he supposes, because it'll be even more amazing when they're at Regionals and she's singing her heart out. He smiles a little.

"Finn!"

He turns around and finds her, a little out a breath as she catches up to him. "Hey."

"I just…" she starts. "I just want to thank you for believing in me and for fighting for me to sing these songs." She smiles up at him and she's wearing this unicorn sweater and it's just really good to see her so happy, he realizes, even if there's a pang in his heart that he's not the cause of it. But they had their chance. And sometimes things just can't work out the way you think/wish they will.

He smiles. "Oh," he says. "Yeah, no problem. Your songs are…they're _amazing_, Rachel. And I knew if anyone could do it, it'd be you."

Her face gets a little red and she pats his forearm before murmuring her thanks and telling him she'd see him tomorrow if she didn't see him later. He nods and keeps walking to his locker.

He sees Quinn already leaning against it when he gets there. "Hey," he says again.

"Really Finn?" Quinn asks sardonically. He's not sure what he's done wrong or if maybe she's just cranky about something else, though this time he can't (and she can't) blame it on pregnancy hormones. Thankfully.

"Err…what?"

"Nothing," she mutters dismissively, and then smiles at him. "I was just making sure you're ready for Sunday."

He closes his locker and frowns. "Saturday, you mean?"

She rolls her eyes. "That too." Sunday? What was Sunday then? Were they…oh _oh. Ugh._ Prom shopping. Where is this going anyway, he wonders. They're going to Regionals in two days and she's worried about a prom dress. She's talking now about posters for their campaign but he remembers the last time he made posters for the school and even if it's different now, Mrs. Sylvester is awful and scary and somehow manages to ruin everything they do. And really, he's not that artistic and even if being Prom King is cool, it's still forever away and he's more concerned about beating Aural Intensity and the Warblers, even if he has to compete against his step-brother (which really isn't cool at all, but he grudgingly admires Kurt for being brave enough to take a stand and not keep coming to an environment that puts him in harm. Admittedly, he hasn't seen much of Karofsky lately, but that doesn't mean a whole lot 'cause the gorilla could come at them any time he wants) and not getting people to vote for them.

And to be honest, she keeps bringing this up and it really makes him (re)question her sudden (re)interest in him because yeah she _said_ she belongs here with him, but she didn't say it was because she cares about him. She could belong with him, next to him, because he's popular and she's still kinda popular and she still _wants _to be popular. But he doesn't have all the best motives for being with (he keeps saying that, "with," but know he uses it loosely because he's still sure they're not dating, but there aren't many terms for that besides, like, fuck buddies, but you can't be fuck buddies without sex and they still haven't had sex or anything yet so he just doesn't know how to classify this all, really) her. Is he using her? He doesn't think so. Because he _does_ care about her. And no matter what, she was his first real girlfriend and there's always going to be something between them. So it's worth revisiting because she's who she is and he's…well whoever he is (he doesn't know yet, but she doesn't question him or anything so he doesn't see a reason to stop forcing the thought to the back of his mind) and they're good for each other and stuff. Maybe not because their each other's one true loves, but they're good enough for each other.

The ex-cheer captain and the broken star quarterback. It's sort of perfect. (Too perfect? Maybe. Does it matter? Probably not). Finn and Quinn. Their names even rhyme. And that's more than perfect too, like too perfect to mean anything real, but it'll give them an advantage at Prom, she's told him. So whatever. Really, it's just all whatever these days. And really, that's the problem. So like he always does, he just pushes it all away.

Doesn't matter.

_Can't_ matter.

* * *

He wipes his palms nervously on his jeans because it's lunch and this time tomorrow they'll be getting ready to perform on stage in front of all these people and yeah, he's done it before. But this is…it's still. It's just still, okay? Or no wait, _he_ needs to be still. Or something. _God,_ what's _wrong_ with him? There's still over twenty hours before they perform and he's already acting sweaty and nervous like a fool. Jeez.

He takes another bite of his (unsatisfactory) sandwich and thinks absently that he should probably start bringing his own lunch. He looks across the table at Quinn, and next to him, where they're sitting with Lauren, Puck, Mike, and Tina. She nods in his direction and he sighs. She's not nervous at all and it doesn't make sense to him because even at Sectionals she was freaking out, but now she's just calmly spooning up her soup and he wonders if she's really that confident or if she's just faking it. Because he knows how that is, faking confidence. He _gets it._ Trust him. It's like his main hobby these days. Maybe not hobby, but the right words are failing him and he doesn't care enough to think what the right one is because that's Rachel's job, but Rachel isn't here so it's all just limbo. It's Finn and Quinn in limbo and Finn in limbo and Rachel in limbo and everything is the same and separate, they're both, like he's both wanting to say he's more than a prom king, and then he wants to deny it because he can't think of anything else that he is, really. He's not a star and he doesn't shine. And he's not good at planning, so even if he's nothing, he can't make everyone think he is a king without his ego, without these people saying they like him and they look at him. But they're just looking, of course. It doesn't mean they see. But that's better because he doesn't want them to see and anyway, they probably wouldn't _like_ what they see, so he'd be back to square one.

Or maybe circle one. Because circles are never ending, right? People have told him that before. Squares, circles, people, they're sort of them same when you think about it. They're so many things _lines lines more lines skin mind lines body consciousness lines and lines they're lines and circles and lines that meet and intersect lines that are parallel and thoughts that mix and thoughts that stray all these lines and thoughts it just makes me dizzy all these things really_ but others really only see them as one thing. You're just a circle, one never ending line. Or you're just a square, four lines that meet and two sets a parallel lines, but you're still just a square. You're just a person; just the quarterback, just the prom king, just the ex, just the loser. You're just the things no one wants to see in themselves.

So yeah, he gets that. But he's just really hungry and circles make him think of pizza and pizza would be a lot better than whatever he's eating right now. But everything's mostly better than anything in the moment you're wishing you had something else.

He tells Quinn he'll see her after school because lunch is over and stuff and he has classes that he has to not pay attention in.

And later as he's walking through the hallways where he's sure no one is around, that's when he hears it. Crying. But it's not just any crying, 'cause he would be able to recognize it anywhere. It's Rachel. It's Rachel who's crying and even though there's a part of him that tells him he should mind his own business, he tells it to back off. Because she's still his friend and she's still Rachel, so he pushes his way into the girls' bathroom (and wow, it smells _way_ better than the guys' bathroom ever does—which isn't surprising really, but still. It's not like he's ever been inside a girls' bathroom before).

"Rachel?" he asks tentatively when he sees her dabbing at her eyes as she stands at the sink. She turns around and her eyes are all red and she looks angry and lost and hurt and _broken_. He knows because he thinks he probably looks that way a lot when he forgets to hide that he's not the big confident quarterback who led the team to win their championship game.

She grits her teeth and turns away from him again. "Go away." He doesn't recognize her voice; all cold and callow and stuff. She never sounds like that. Even when she's been mad at him, the one thing she's never lacked was passion, feeling, _Rachel-ness._

"Rachel?" he asks again. "What—what is it?"

She turns around this time, for real, with her hands balled into fists and he sees the passion come back and now he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. "_What is it?_" she echoes. "What _is_ it? Finn, I'm doing my best here. I really am. I've accepted the way I feel about you and the way you _don't_ feel about me—"

"—What does that—"

She talks over his interruption. "And I've tried to be okay with you choosing her over me _again._ And I've come to terms with the fact that you're exploring all these possibilities, okay? _I'm doing my best._ Because I need to. And I need to go out there tomorrow and be part of a team and _win_. Because we can't lose again."

She pauses to take a breath and there are more tears, but he doesn't say anything because she wants to finish; he can tell. "Do you know what I _don't_ need though, Finn?"

He shakes his head because he doesn't know, but he _wants_ to. He wants to know what's wrong with her. _He does._

"I _don't_ need you and—and _her_ to rub your relationship in my face. I'm respecting your decisions, Finn. I'm doing what you asked me to. And whatever you and Quinn decide to do in your private time isn't my business. But I _don't_ need to hear about it, hear her bragging to me about it. And I don't need you to act like it's okay." She looks up at him, all tears and heartbreak and his own heart is beating really fast because he doesn't know what she's talking about. Well, he does, he thinks. But he hasn't—he didn't—he should talk to Quinn.

"Just stop _doing_ this to me!" She stomps out of the bathroom before he can question her, before he can put the pieces together because everything is so hazy and muddled and it's just not right. And _Quinn._ He doesn't know what it is she said because he surel hasn't said anything. Because she's always acted like they're still sneaking around and rather than risk it, he just lets her. So what happened?

_What's happening?_

His feet can't carry him out of the bathroom fast enough. He needs to _know._ So many things he needs to know and so many things he needs to stop pretending to know. There's a way _there's a way there's a way there has to be a way maybe a way around the hard parts if you're lucky but you need to know._

He _needs_ to know.

* * *

_okay so I would really, really appreciate your feedback on this. and I'm not sure if this will have one more chapter or two more, but I'll have the next part up as soon as I can. I promise. thank you so much!  
reviews = love _


	2. Never Shall Wither

**A/N:** _Firstly, thank you sooo much everyone for your awesome reviews. Seriously, made my day/week/life. thank you! secondly, I actually think this story will have four chapters._

_this chapter will cover spoilers for 2x16, though it won't be like what's on the show. but I hope you're not disappointed, so if you could keep letting me know, I'd be forever grateful. ^^_

_disclaimer: In no way do I own or profit from Glee or its affiliates. I'm just here for fun!_

* * *

Going going gone going gone He's gone. _She's_ gone. Where is everything?

He wakes up, twisted in the covers, his chest heaving and aching, his hair sweaty and matted to his forehead. He takes a shuddering breath lies down again. Bad. This is bad. He hadn't been able to find her yesterday 'cause when he'd finally had the sense to move, to look for her and find out what happened, he hadn't been able to.

He'd tripped. Over his giant feet and over his tumbling, clumsy heart and he'd just ended up where he started from, except back farther. And now he's having dreams about it? About her? Not good. It's just _not good._ And now he doesn't know what to do.

Quinn, okay. He needs to talk to Quinn? Maybe. He remembers seeing Quinn not long after seeing Rachel, but he hadn't made any connections then because his brain, well it doesn't usually work as fast as he'd probably like it to. Today, he thinks. He'll talk to Quinn today and then he'll…can he talk to Rachel? He wants to. But she was so _so angry._ He doesn't know exactly what he did because he's never—he doesn't even _talk_ about Quinn with her. Why would he? She's not part of them, she's just…just…_there._ They—Quinn and Finn (and maybe he thinks the rhyming thing is even lamer this time around)—they're just there. Like background noise and white light. And there are just so many _things_ and they're just there.

His life is so cluttered, isn't it? He thought he was cleaning things up, pushing things in boxes and sending them away by not addressing, never thinking of, them. But maybe that's wrong too because he's usually wrong, well that's what Quinn tells him anyway. He's wrong. He guesses he's really just been adding stuff to his already messed up life.

So what's he supposed to do about it now?

It's four in the morning and he doesn't have to be up for another three hours, but he doesn't think he can get back to sleep. Or he at least doesn't want to if they're all gonna be like _that._ And suddenly the easy way doesn't seem so easy anymore.

He's still the same person, isn't he? Or the same _non_person. Nothing has _really_ changed, has it? He's not different, maybe just a little more broken. But just 'cause he's popular, he's back on top, he's the cream of the crop and all that shit, it doesn't make a difference, really.

Because he's still the glee club loser who cares too much and tries to block it out by pretending to care too little. But how does that _help?_ What does that mean? For him. For Quinn. For him and Quinn and him and/or Rachel. _Rachel._ She's still gone and he's still not catching up, he knows that. Or maybe he's gone too, but in the opposite direction. He doesn't know where to start though. And how can you finish if you don't start? You can't. His mind, and maybe his life too, is just always going around in circles.

Oh God and Regionals are tomorrow. He has to sing these songs, _her_ songs, _with_ her. He's pretty sure no one wants to be a loser like him. Maybe like Rachel, sure. Because she's only a loser in the sense that high school is cruel and cold and suffocates you, and the chain doesn't like people who will _be something._ And she's gonna be _everything_ because how can she not be? She _is_ everything.

But Finn? He'll be the loser his whole life, he thinks. So while she'll maybe get slushied now, one day she'll be drawing tiny gold stars on slips of paper the same way she did all over his heart. And he'll be…what? Alive. Like that makes a difference right now. And Quinn, well, she'll probably still be the ice queen bossing people around and they still won't be able to deny her because it's easier to do what she says than to not. He would know.

He _does_ know. And as hard as it is, it's still easier, _still._ Because clutter is a distraction, you know? His heart is just so _heavy_ from all these feelings and wants and _needs_ and consequences. And it just gets harder and harder to drag around. So at least with Quinn telling him it's prom and prom and popularity and prom and the more he doesn't listen the more she talks, but it's okay. Because she's talking for herself and not to him. But still, she's pretty and he gets to kiss her and pretend like he's not alone because she _might_ like him. Nothing's really for sure, but the last time he was sure of something, it didn't work anyway, so whatever.

_Stop fucking making comparisons, Hudson._ What's wrong with him, really? Look, with Rachel, he still…but it doesn't matter, okay? Because she's amazing and brilliant and everything stupid ass Lima and stupid ass Finn isn't. And Quinn, while she's smart and stuff, she's not Rachel. So he doesn't know what Quinn will be doing after high school, but this is it for her. And for him. So if this is it for both of them, they're just gonna go for it. She's gonna be prom queen and he's gonna…uh, well, he's gonna be proud or something and prove to everyone that just 'cause you're a loser doesn't mean you can't have your moments. Yeah, that's it. Another distraction. It's perfect (_just too perfect like perfect is a real kind of sentiment_) so hey, it works enough for now.

He realizes he's wasted his time thinking and he has to get ready for school. _School school Rachel school Quinn talk to her talk to…what am I going to say?_ It's all just really confusing, which sucks because he's always confused anyway and it just keeps getting worse. Regionals, right. He should just focus on that. He shoves his sheet music in his backpack because they practice, practice, practice. Because it's gotta be good, gotta be right, gotta be, "Actually, Finn, it needs to be _explosive._" 'Kay Mr. Schue. Whatever you say. All he knows it mostly it feels like his heart, his life maybe, are exploding. So maybe he can channel that into performing or some shit. He'll see. 'Cause Rachel was right when she said they can't lose again.

_No more losing, Finn._ Or at least please, please, _please_ a decrease in losing. He already knows he's a loser, okay?

But it'd be nice if the world weren't rubbing it in his damn face all the time.

* * *

"Quinn," he says, like he's desperate (he probably is) as he walks with her. "_Quinn._"

"What?" she snaps.

"I…nothing." She looks at him like he's an idiot and it annoys him and even if he's not much, he's not a coward. Well, at least not _always_ a coward. Right? _Right?_

Silence.

Well, fuck you too subconscious. "What happened with Rachel yesterday?" he asks finally.

Her face becomes unreadable and it scares him, but when she speaks her voice is cool and calm. It's Quinn. "She fell."

He doesn't believe her. _He doesn't believe her._ But before he can demand an explanation, like the king _king king_ he is, she steps away, says she's got somewhere to be. He almost misses the way her eyes, her whole gaze, falters a little.

Almost.

But he doesn't know what it means.

_Rachel Rachel Rachel Rachel,_ his brain tells him. No wait, that's his heart. 'Cause his brain, his stupid fucked up brain, is saying _stop it just stop it just stop _feeling_ Finn it hurts less this way._ But that's stupid too. And he doesn't know, just doesn't understand the balance he thinks he might need to get through this all. But then he's never really known much about balance anyway.

He just sort of _does_ things. It's probably not the best way to live, but it's not the worst either. Not yet, anyway.

Okay, man up. Sure. Right. Damn it.

He finds her in the choir room at lunch and frowns, 'cause she hasn't eaten in here since the middle of last year.

"Rachel?"

"Finn," she replies coolly. And he doesn't like it because it reminds him of Quinn and it's just _wrong._

"I—" he says. He what? What's he supposed to say? It's like he's all choked up, or his speech is or something because nothing's working and…she stands up and takes a deep breath.

"Don't," she tells him, holding a hand up. "Can we just set this aside for now? We have Regionals tomorrow and I need to focus on that right now." She looks sad, he notes, whereas yesterday she just looked pissed. "We need to win and we won't be able to if we don't have clear heads. There are a lot of things I want and need to say to you, Finn. But not today," she adds quietly before picking up her lunch box and walking away.

So _that_ went well. He sighs and plops himself down in one of the chairs, running a hand through his hair. _Fail._

But fine. Maybe Rachel's right. Stop thinking and just _be._ Be cool, you know. Easy to say, not so easy to do.

But okay, he'll give her what she wants. _This time._ 'Cause he's gotta get his time someday, doesn't he? Doesn't he at least deserve that? Maybe not, but everything in life now is just maybes anyway. Just adding another to the list. You know, he never really used to care about lists, but Rachel, well, she's organized. So he got used to having his life in ordered, which is why he'd even been able to realize how messy and cluttered it is now. But he knows Rachel will talk to him, _really_ talk to him when she's ready because she's Rachel and her keeping her opinions to herself would be like Ms. Pillsbury giving useful advice; defying the laws of physics or some shit.

Whatever, the point is he's just gotta wait it out. And he's just gotta sing with her tomorrow and act like he doesn't know the magic is there or something. Or _know_ that it is and let the audience see it, but not act on it. Because he can't deny that he and Rachel just have this amazing chemistry and it'll give them a real advantage, he's sure of it, especially performing this original song that's so…_so them._ It's New Directions embodied in a song, really. And he's proud to sing it, shout it, _live it._ So, yeah, that's what he'll do, okay?

Maybe planning isn't his specialty, but he can stick to it sometimes. When he tries to. Like, really hard and stuff. And he's going to try really hard to make this work, the winning thing, he means. And then they'll win (they _have_ to win) and they'll be champions and then he'll go shopping with Quinn for an outfit a champion would wear, even if it's not the same kind of champions. But, how many kinds of champions are there, anyway? He doesn't know, doesn't really care that much, and certainly not enough to analyze it. But they at least all have to have something in common, he supposes, otherwise they wouldn't _be_ champions.

He just wishes he knew what it was.

'Cause he remembers this, this _thing_ that someone (one of his uncles or something maybe?) who was a war hero like his dad, once told him about being a winner and a champion and stuff. They have compassion _and hope._

So okay, he remembers Rachel calling him compassionate once, but he's not sure it matters that much anymore. Since she just seems to think he's an asshole now. And maybe she's not _wrong completely_ but it's still not fair. He's not, like, _mean_ to her, not really at least. It's not—God he really hopes she knows that Quinn has nothing to do with her, at least nothing to do with hurting her. It's not. _He's not._

The hope part though? He's not so sure about that. Sometimes he has it, like for tomorrow, winning Regionals and everything. But the other stuff? Yeah, not so much. Aside from how stupid it sounds for rhyming, he's pretty sure his hope is just dangling along on a rope, a really, really old, frayed rope. And it's burning his hands as it slips through, but he's afraid to let it go, 'cause if he doesn't have even a little bit of hope, then what _does_ he have? Like, what does he have that will matter outside of high school, he means. So much damn _thinking._

You know, he never even did much thinking before he got blackmailed into glee club and met all these people that just changed his life and changed _him._ Or changed who he thought he was or _whatever._

Whatever, whatever, _whatever whatever it's all whatever ydda yadda whatever_. What_ever._ He repeats it in his brain as many times as he can count and then some because he's so _tired_ of all the whatever. But it doesn't go away, so it's like a lot of things. It just sticks with him until all he feels is a giant ball of _whatever_. And he can't even define it.

But it's fine, it's cool, or it's,you know, _whatever._

* * *

Holy shit. They're here. They're _here._ _They're here._ He doesn't know why, but even though he was just thinking about it yesterday, Regionals still seemed so far away. But they're here now, the girls all prettied up in their blue dresses and the guys all slick in black and stuff. He licks his lips as they hang around the green room, some nervous, some excited. Most of them both. Quinn's standing next to him, or like as next to him as she will, but they don't say anything. What is there to say?

Besides, he doesn't wanna hear any more about the prom, and even though she tries to hide it, he thinks he can tell she's still more focused on that than on the competition that could make or break them. _Again._

Mike and Tina are murmuring to each other, being cute and coupley and stuff and he finds it both heartening and disgusting at the same time because he remembers when he could do that stuff, and how he _liked_ doing that stuff 'cause it made her happy, which in turn made _him_ happy. And yeah, he really needs to, like, _not_ think about this right now. Clear head, yeah. That's right. Okay.

It sucks, too, 'cause he didn't even think about that, about everything this moment meant to them last year, what he wanted it to mean this year, and all the stuff it can't mean now. Or they won't let it mean now. But it _hurts._ Okay? Do people want him to admit it? Because it _does._ It makes him feel like shit and it's not her fault, or not totally, and he's not saying it is. But life is mostly crappy right now, like really, and there are times it's harder than others to be cool about it, to just be the MVP. And now is one of those moments and one of _those_ moments.

He looks over at Quinn and she smiles encouragingly at him and he nods. He looks at Rachel and she sighs a little as they move out of the room to take their places. They're standing at the entrance to the doors and he wonders if this is supposed to be like their signature or something, or if Mr. Schue just can't think of anything original. Because really, he and Rachel created it during Sectionals last year and then re-created it at Regionals…last year. He sucks in a rigid breath and _no no no nononono don't think about that._ He doesn't, he _can't_ want to think about everything this moment, the pre-entry to their performance—was to him and them last year, and everything he thought this moment would be to him and them _this year._ But no, it's just…life doesn't work that way.

He looks at her again. "Listen carefully," she instructs. "Because I mean every word of it."

He swallows thickly and watches as she opens the door and his heart is doing that racing thing again, but it's different this time. He doesn't know what that means either, but he knows it means _something. _Maybe he'll even figure it out at some point, 'cause that would be _awesome._

Thankfully, he doesn't get to analyze it further because Rachel is pulling the door open and this is it. Here goes nothing.

Listening to Rachel sing is an experience like no other, and he knows that's dorky or whatever, but it's true. But this is different, it's just _different._ This is like living inside Rachel's head, inside her _heart._ This _is_ Rachel Berry. And the fact that she thinks _she's_ the one who hasn't done it right, who's not worthy. Because that's just…_no._ He's mesmerized by her though, the emotion and pain and _Rachel you're better than all of us._ Because she already _got_ it right. And he kind of wants to cry or something because it hurts to see her think so low of herself. But she's up there singing, feeling, _living_ and he's never felt more connected to her, even though they're really so far apart, metaphorically speaking anyway. Because as wrong as it is for her to feel this way, _he_ gets it. But the thing is, he _does_ fucking things, _everything,_ up. But she just shines and shines and _gets_ to people when she sings, when she performs.

And suddenly he's just so _angry_. At her, for not knowing she's better than this. And himself for not being able to make her believe it. And at everyone else for who's ever tried to make her feel like she's worthless. Because she's wrong. It's everyone else; they need to step up their game, need to make it all right with her. Because she's the best they have and he knows they all know it and resent it and just _don't_ understand her, so they shoot her down repeatedly. And it's not okay anymore. Well, it was never okay and he's an idiot for not seeing it before, but he's gonna fix that. He _has_ to fix that. And he'll even put thought into how; he _will._

Because he still has to perform with all of them and with _her._ He's never been able to deny the amazing musical (and, admittedly, other types of) chemistry that he and Rachel have. And when he's singing this song, it's so…_them._ And yeah, maybe the song is a little corny, but it's cool 'cause it's like a big _fuck you_ to everyone who's tried to knock them down or around and stuff (which is almost everyone, actually). But he's not just singing outwardly. He's singing to everyone in the club, too. 'Cause they're always saying how they're a family and stuff, but there's so much _hostility_ too. Everyone has their one or two closest friends or boyfriend/girlfriend and there's always just this _drama_ and that's gotta stop too. He might not have much going for him, but he's still a leader, still the co-captain and he thinks maybe he should talk to them about this shit.

But he hopes (_hope hope hope don't be meaningless hope rope don't go quitting on me yet I still need you hope hope_) that maybe this song, and singing it all together, he hopes this song might be the start of them _really_ coming together. All of them, all the time, like a _real_ club. More than individuals because he feels like maybe they can win; they're gonna win, he can _feel it._ And he's feeling a lot of things right now, getting totally into the performance.

And they do; they totally win. And for once, it's _awesome._ And there are smiles and hugs and all these _good_ things and it feels foreign as of late, but he'll take what he can get. Because _they won._ They really did it. He grins and looks over at Rachel and feels something in his chest shift into place and he thinks it must be reflecting in his eyes or something because she finally really looks at him, too. And her smiles matches his and it's just so…so _right._ So everything he's been missing.

But then Quinn is grabbing his hand because he can recognize it—that is he would recognize any hand that isn't Rachel's. And the hand gripping his right now—the _cold_ hand—it's not Rachel's, but he sees her, the small brunette with the big voice, looking at him again, but this time it's pain that flashes across her face and she tears her gaze away. He thinks he's about to pull his hand away from Quinn's but suddenly she's hugging him and he knows this isn't the way that it's supposed to be.

And before he gets the chance to tell her that, she's releasing him and hugging Artie instead. He tries to turn to Rachel, to tell her just how he's so _so_ proud of her, for writing such a heartfelt song, for just being who she is, being _Rachel_, but she's not looking near him anymore, instead clutching onto Mercedes and bouncing excitedly. He sighs, but then congratulates the rest of his teammates, fist-bumping Puck and wondering if they're, like, bros or something again.

The bus ride home is okay, he guesses, but it's not like he wanted it to be. He just _really_ wants to at least talk to Rachel, to tell her he _knows._ He knows her and knows it's not easy for her, but still lo—wants her to succeed anyway because she deserves it more than anything and anyone. But he has to sit with Quinn because they need to plan their day together tomorrow or something and she can probably tell he's not really listening to her, but it doesn't bother him that much, to be honest. The bad part, he thinks, is that she can probably tell he's thinking about Rachel because she's told him before she can tell 'cause he gets his "Rachel Face," when he thinks about her or something.

"But I think my color is pink, actually," he hears Quinn saying. "But you would look awful in pink." She frowns. He resists the urge to tell her he's not wearing pink anyway 'cause he doesn't like pink unless it's on Rachel. His thoughts really center on Rachel, don't they? But it's not fair to either of them. Or Quinn, he guesses. But Quinn is Quinn and he just goes along with her crazy because her crazy is the kind that he doesn't understand, but then she says she's sorry and she should let him have more input. And then he feels bad for thinking mean things about her because really, she's not _so_ bad, is she? Once you get past all the lying and cheating and manipulating and stuff…

_Uh._ Maybe that's just what and who he deserves, though. He's already thought about all this and it just depresses him to keep bringing it up, so okay, think about something else, Finn.

Her mom is already waiting in the parking lot to pick her up when the bus gets back to William McKinley. She says she'll see him tomorrow and he tells her, "Okay." And that's it.

His mom can't pick him up yet 'cause she doesn't get off work for another half hour and even though Mr. Schue offered to give him a ride home, he just doesn't feel as comfortable around the teacher as he once did. So he waits inside for his mom, leaning against the lockers and that's when he sees her.

"Rachel?" he asks.

"F—Finn. Hello." But then her face is animated again and, "Isn't it just _wonderful?_"

He gives her a crooked smile. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah. It's awesome."

But she closes off again and it bothers him because why are they still these two people so uncomfortable around each other? Hadn't she said a couple weeks ago they needed to break the tension and stuff? So what happened?

"Rachel, what's up with you? I mean, yesterday—"

Her tone is heated again and he doesn't know what to do or think or feel or _anything._ "What's _up_ with me?" she hisses. And there's fire in her eyes too and maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Finn Hudson having a bad idea, yeah, alert the fucking press. He sighs. "You know, I did ask Quinn questions about the nature of your relationship because I'm curious and you know the way I still and will always feel about you. And fine, if you and Quinn have sex, that's—that's _fine_ because it's not my decision. But why do you want her to hurt me?" she asks softly.

"Wait—_what?_" Quinn? Sex? Finn and Quinn and sex? Hurt Rachel? "What the hell are you talking about, Rachel?"

"Oh, don't even start with me, Finn Hudson. It's bad enough you lied about having sex with Santana when we were together, but we're not together now, so what do you have to gain from lying this time? I just don't understand it!" She places her hands on her hips and her eyes are starting to look watery, but he still doesn't know what's going on.

"Quinn and I didn't have sex!" he protests.

She glares at him. "Seriously, Rachel. I messed up before, why the hell would I lie about it to you? Yeah I don't talk about Quinn much with you, 'cause I don't wanna hurt you on purpose and stuff. But if you want to know the truth, the truth is that I've never slept with Quinn."

"Really?" she whispers.

He nods. "Yeah. Why did you even think…?"

"Oh, gosh, Finn this is so _embarrassing. _I'm sorry, I'm a fool. And I should have known better than to believe _Quinn._" She sniffles angrily.

All these thoughts are going around in his head and he doesn't understand them; they're too fast to comprehend. "What?" is all he can manage. Because he just has a bad feeling a bad, bad, feeling about all this. It's not good.

"She told me that I would—in the end, she told me that I should give up on you because the two of you had sex and there was no way you would give that up." She looks away, embarrassed, and the blood rushes to his head and he thinks that vein is sticking up on his neck or something because this is so wrong and how could Quinn even do that? Doesn't she _know_ how sex lies destroy everything? Did she think Rachel wouldn't find out? What—

"I'm sorry," he says finally, 'cause he's not angry at Rachel and he needs her to know that. "I don't know why she…are you okay?"

She nods a little, and then sighs in relief. "I'm just…I'm sorry, Finn. And I'm sorry everything got so messed up."

"No," he says firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder momentarily. "I wanted to tell you earlier today, Rachel, that song…you were…I don't even have words. But it was perfect, _you_ were perfect. And I'm sorry I couldn't be good enough to make sure you knew that. Because you don't need to be anyone else than who you are. It's the rest of us, Rach, we need to catch up to you." He says it quietly, not really believing he's actually able to admit it out loud to her.

"Finn," she murmurs. "It's not—"

"Wait, just let me talk, please?" He's desperate now, but she nods. So he continues. "I know that song wasn't just about me. I mean, I know some it was—and you were wrong there, because you didn't…I've never deserved _you_ Rachel, and the fact that you put up with me for so long astounds me. Anyway, I still…I want…I didn't ever stop loving you, I mean, I tried. But I didn't and I still…But Rachel, I—" He doesn't know what he's saying anymore, because words are just spewing out and they're just…_there,_ too. And he doesn't—he isn't—

"I love you, too, Finn. But we both know we're not ready for a relationship."

"I—yeah," he agrees.

"And you and Quinn—"

"There's no me and Quinn," he insists. Or if there is/was, there certainly wouldn't be once he talks to her. Because Quinn is Quinn, sure, but she should _know_ better than to pull this shit. And no matter how much he doesn't deserve Rachel and can't be with her, they're still (mostly) friends and he doesn't wanna hurt her more if he can avoid it.

"Okay. But Finn, I do believe in us, and despite what you seem to think about yourself, I believe in _you_ too, which is one reason it's so nice to know you believe in me as much as you do. But in writing, and especially performing, 'Get It Right,' I realized our relationship's problems are more deeply rooted that your actions or my actions."

He looks at her, trying to understand what she's saying, like _really_ trying. Because she's Rachel and not Quinn and Quinn is _not Rachel_ so it's just wrong. He knows it's just wrong.

"You remember when you told me that I need to be on my own a while and work on myself?" He nods. "You were right, but it's not just me, Finn."

…

"What I'm saying," she goes on, looking at him with this kind of empathy that only she possesses, "is I know you have insecurities, and so do I. So while I work on mine, I want you to work on yours. You and I will never be able to make it work until _you_ believe in yourself as much I believe in you, and until I learn to deal with my own insecurities."

"Okay," he says. He gets it, really he does. But it still hurts. He doesn't even know if he was looking to be with her again right now. But he gets it. He doesn't know how in the hell he's supposed to do that but, okay. If Rachel thinks he's worth it…

"But also know this, Finn. If you need help with this, I'm always here. I'm always your friend. And hopefully, someday I'll be more than that again." She smiles softly at him and he does his best to smile back.

"Thanks," he says simply. "I…I'm gonna try."

"I know."

"My mom's here," he tells her, feeling his cell phone go off and knowing it's her.

"Okay." Commence awkward silence. Then she pulls him in for a hug and he's drowning in her and in _them_ and this isn't how it's supposed to be, he knows it. But she smells like Rachel and he…he needs to go. And he does. And he can't bring himself to look back as he runs down the hallway, ice flooding his veins, shards of glass lodged in his heart. His mom tells him she's so proud of him, but all he can do is nod dumbly.

It's just _all wrong._

* * *

He can't figure out why he's so _furious_, but when he gets home, all thoughts of winning and being a champion are just backburnered by _rage._ By all of these intense emotions he hasn't felt in so long because he hasn't really _let_ himself feel _anything_ in so long.

He kicks over his desk chair, but it doesn't help like it normally does. He thinks about punching the wall, but if he leaves a hole, Burt will kick his ass and it's not even worth it.

But _God._ It's like everything he hasn't felt in the past five months is just accumulating, all the anger and bitterness and pain and _and everything._ The weight of all these feelings is bearing down on him and there's nowhere for him to put them all, 'cause they're not like clothes or something you can just shove in a closet. They're a _part_ of him.

The knowledge of that, the _weight_ and the permanence are enough to buckle his knees as he just _screams. _One long, hollow yell and he doesn't know what he's saying or what he's not saying, but now he's on the floor in his bedroom, burying his face in his hands like a girl because it just _hurts._ And the more he admits it, the more it hurts.

His bedroom door flies open and he looks up briefly to find Burt rushing into the room. His step-dad gathers Finn into his arms asking, "Hey, what happened?" and Finn just pushes him away, scrambling across the room.

But it hurts to move and it hurts to breathe and there's all this blood pounding in his ears and his heart is racing and _he can't fucking stop crying._ And he's been so good, _so good_ about just pushing all this, all the hard stuff, away and away and like it doesn't exist. But now it does and it has to and it just makes everything worse. "Nothing," he says when Burt asks him what happened. Nothing _new._ Except Rachel thinks he's okay and she's wrong and she thinks it's all her fault and she's _wrong. And I'm wrong too because I'm always wrong I don't know what I'm wrong about just go away go away stop _thinking_ and just stop everything is broken enough as it is._

"Finn," Burt demands this time. "If you don't want to talk to me, I'll go find your mom or Kurt, but—"

"_No._"

Burt looks at him funny and Finn uses his red-rimmed eyes to see that he's actually concerned and maybe—because if Rachel is right—and she is—maybe this is what he—so many thoughts, though…so much of everything, but not enough too.

"Finn, what—"

"I'm trying, okay?" he whispers, shrinking back against his bed frame and wiping at his eyes. "I tried."

Burt doesn't say anything; just carefully lowers himself down onto the floor next to Finn, wincing.

"I just want to be able to get _out_ of here when I'm done with this place. But I can't. I feel like I already know I can't and when I listen to Rachel sing all these amazing songs, I know I can't. I just…what am I supposed to _do_ with my life? Where do I put everything?" His voice cracks a couple times and a few stray tears run down his cheeks, but he wipes at them angrily. Because if he has to feel at all, it's not as hard to just be angry as it is to admit he's breaking down.

"Finn, son, listen to me." Burt places a large hand on his shoulder and he wants to pull away, but he can't find the motivation to move, so he just sits there, spewing fragmented thoughts as they enter his head. "I know the last few months have been hard for you—"

"It doesn't go away," he interjects quietly, his voice breaking, but this time maybe for good.

"What doesn't?" his step-dad asks him quietly.

"Everything," he whispers. And then there's flash after flash after flash of scenes from his life that he wishes he could relive or take back or that should never have happened. There's Santana in the motel room, Rachel smiling at him and finally _finally_ saying she loves him too. Kurt staring at him in shock after the incident when they almost shared a room. There's Finn crying on Mr. Schue's shoulder when he found out Quinn (_Quinn deal with that later why did you even think she changed? Some people can change, but most never do and you got tricked again dumbass)_ was pregnant, and the day Rachel told him it wasn't his and Rachel and Puck on her bed. And Rachel saying she's so sorry and Finn saying she's not supposed to make him feel so terrible, but he misses the good parts, _he does._ But then there's today and she needs to be by herself, just like he said, but she thinks he needs to be by himself too, but he doesn't know _how._ And god, his head is _pounding_ and everything aches, both physically and emotionally and he's so _drained._ It hurts to think and it hurts even more to feel, but all his defenses have already crumbled and this is all he can do now.

So he just cries harder and finally lets Burt hug him because it's _someone_ and someone is better than no one, right? Especially when he doesn't know who to have anymore, who he _does_ have. Rachel will always be his friend, that's what she'd said. And knows she'd stand by that. But there's no way he can work on himself, or find out who he is or whatever it is she's asking him to do, if he doesn't know who he is apart from her. And he can't keep relying on her because it's not fair on either of them and he's finally starting to realize it.

But where does he go from here? "Finn, I know you and me, we've had our…difficulties, but I know you're a good kid. And I know how hard it is to make good choices, especially as a kid, but you're doing fine, I promise. And whatever it is you need to work on, I'll help you as much as I can. And so will your mom and so will Kurt." He pauses for a second and turns Finn's face up to look at him. "We're a family," he says seriously.

Family. A family he's been taking for granted for so long too, he thinks. And he's gotta stop that too. So many things he's gotta do. "Okay," he concedes finally, wiping at his eyes again, but this time just 'cause they're itchy. He needs to work on feeling, he knows that. And on being. And he doesn't know how Burt can help him yet, but the offer is there and if he ever wants to be someone Rachel deserves, hell, if he ever wants to be someone he's not ashamed of being, his best bet is to take it.

So, fine. He will.

He'll do it. For Rachel and for Quinn (or rather, so he can make sure she knows he's figured her out, or mostly figured her out now) and for Kurt and his mom and Mr. Schue and for Burt, for the glee club and the football team.

And, well, for himself.

* * *

_thank you for reading. I'd really appreciate your feedback on this; thank you so much. It's all uphill for Finn and Finchel from here, I promise. reviews=love. and i'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can. :) that is, if you guys are still interested? _


	3. My Tomorrow

**A/N: **_Okay, I'm so sorry for the wait and I severely hope you aren't disappointed in this chapter. And I'd really appreciate your feedback on it. As it is, thank you so much for your reviews. Seriously, thank you._

disclaimer: I'm still working on that whole owning Glee thing, so until then, I don't own or profit from Glee or its affiliates.

* * *

He's got to get his life back on track—he knows that. But he figures he's entitled to take a day off to lie in his bed and wallow a bit first.

He ignores his phone—all sixteen times that it rings. He doesn't want to talk to Quinn. And yeah, he knows when he sees her tomorrow that she'll be pissed at him for missing their prom-wear shopping date, and pissed even more because he ignored her phone calls, but he doesn't particularly. As it is, he's got a few choice words for her anyway.

And okay, he knows Quinn is power-crazy and kinda ruthless and stuff—but there's a _line._ And she didn't even just cross it; she just destroyed it altogether. And sure, maybe he should have told Rachel himself that was—is—_was _(okay whatever, but they're definitely breaking up) dating Quinn, especially since he also probably should have figured that Quinn would have wanted to mess with her head—it's sort of what she always wants. But he'd just wanted to protect Rachel—keep her safe, keep her mentality and talent and determination safe. And focused. And yes, even in trying to protect her, he'd managed to screw up and hurt her. Again. He's starting to see a pattern here and wonders why Rachel even ever agreed to date him in the first place.

Then he shoots that thought down 'cause this isn't supposed to be _all_ about self-pity. He's also really gotta do some_ thinking,_at some point too—which is kinda annoying because it makes him tired and thinking isn't really his strong suit anyway and everyone knows it. He doesn't even jack off all day—or even eat, really. That is, until Kurt comes in around six or so that evening as asks if he's eating dinner.

But he just lays there, his chest rising and falling softly, and shakes his head no. But he guesses he should have known Kurt wouldn't be deterred so easily. He comes back half an hour later carrying a bowl of soup and some toast.

"Eat up, Finn," his step-brother orders him. "You need to keep your strength up for Nationals."

"That's like two months away," he protests weakly.

Kurt sighs. "Eat your soup or I'll tear all the centerfolds out of your collection and flush them down the toilet."

Finn's body shoots up into a sitting position as he gapes, spluttering, "You…I—_What?_I—how…?" He rubs a hand through his hair and accepts the bowl from Kurt, sighing in defeat.

"Oh, please," Kurt says, waving a hand around. "Do you _really_ think under your mattress is an _original_place to keep those kinds of magazines?"

He groans because really—how embarrassing. Ugh, it was bad enough he got blackmailed about the stuff on his browser. But he doesn't quite want to ask why his step-brother was at one point in his room looking through his stuff. Like, really, he just _doesn't_want to know.

When he finishes, Kurt nods and takes the bowl from him, giving him a small, sympathetic smile on his way out.

He lets his head fall back to the pillow again; combination wishing the day would just end and never end. He doesn't want to think about all the things he knows he needs and wants to say tomorrow. It's not so much the aspect of being a leader and doing what he has to do that bothers him, really. It's just…why does his life have to be like this in the first place? Was he really stupid enough to just go along with everything Quinn said because he'd thought she'd changed? Obviously she hadn't—hasn't, really. He doubts she knows that he knows what she told Rachel. Why would she? He didn't say anything about to her and he can't imagine Rachel doing so.

Honestly, he just wants it all to be over with, but he knows—he's learned—that it's never that simple. So, okay. He'll do what he has to. But he's not going to like it, okay? He doesn't feel like that makes him a bad person or anything though.

Although, he should probably stop allowing Kurt to blackmail him into stuff—even if it's harmless.

Well, he'll work on that too.

* * *

"Finn!" He hears Quinn snap out his name furiously on his way to third period.

He turns around, bracing himself, and replies evenly, "Quinn."

Her face is flushed, but her eyes are still cold and he finds himself wondering how he could have been stupid enough to fall right into her trap. _Again._

"What's wrong with you? I know you have a brain in there _somewhere,_" she snarls. "Do you think you could at least _try_ to use it? We were supposed to go shopping! You _humiliated_ me, Finn!" She just sounds desperate and Finn almost feels sorry for her because she might be more fucked up than he is—he just doesn't use him damage as an excuse to ruin other peoples' lives. Or, well, okay there's the thing with Sam, and he really _is_sorry about that. He makes a mental note to fix that, too. Talk to Sam. Okay.

"Really?" he asks bitterly. "Like the way you humiliated Rachel by pretending to be her friend and lying to her about you and me having sex?"

He sees the shock on her face—and the fact that she didn't think he'd find out makes him think she's really just delusional—and his own face hardens in resolve when she stutters, "I don't—I don't know what you're talking about." Her jaw sets stubbornly.

"That's bullshit, Quinn," he says softly. He throws his hands up in frustration, one scrubbing through his hair. "I really thought maybe it could be different this time, you know? I thought, okay 'why not give this another go? She seems to be into you, and maybe she really does at least care about you. And you care about her, Finn, and maybe you'll find the answers you're looking for.'" He looks at her then, his eyes holding all the emotions he can't find the words for, and whispers, "Did you ever care about me at all?"

He sees her eyes getting watery and he hates himself for it, but he feels sorry for her. Not enough to let this slide, but the sympathy is there. "I—Finn, yes, I did—I _do,_but…" She trails off and looks away.

"But not nearly as much as you care about yourself," he finishes for her. "Yeah, I got that."

"Finn, you have to know—"

"Don't," he interrupts. "Just don't. I know you wanna be popular and get your life together—I want that too, you know? But it doesn't give you the right to just destroy and manipulate people whenever you want to, Quinn. I can't do this anymore," he tells her tiredly.

"It's because of Rachel, isn't it?" she asks, her voice hitching a little.

He sighs. "No. Well, kind of. But honestly, Quinn, don't act like you're surprised. Rachel's never been anything but nice to you and what you did to her—it just wasn't _cool._And you don't really deserve to have her friendship, but she'll forgive you anyway because she's Rachel and she cares too much. That's her problem." He shakes his head to collect his thoughts, sighing listlessly. "The point is, it's fine to have insecurities. I mean, look at me. But it's not okay to use them to—look, the point is, you'll have to find yourself someone else to boss around and stuff."

As he's leaving her, he says over his shoulder, "Good luck getting prom queen."

But he doesn't know if he means it or not.

Raking a hand through his hair, he goes in search of Mr. Schue. To be honest, breaking up with Quinn doesn't make him feel as good as he thought it would. Like, it's good to be liberated or whatever, but why does everything always have to be so messy and complicated? Even though it's the first day back at school after winning Regionals and he should be all happy and rainbows and all that stuff, he's just not. And okay, maybe he's feeling a little better, but all things considered, his brain still hurts and he still doesn't know what to do about it all.

But now he's worried about how tense glee club rehearsals could be, but there's not much he can do about it, is there? He can't stay with Quinn. He just _can't._And he can't be with Rachel yet either. But honestly he doesn't want to. Like, he wants to be with her, don't get him wrong. But he doesn't want to be with her until he feels like he's worthy of being with her, you know? It'll be better this way. There's no point in getting into a relationship that will be just like the first one, being with Quinn again had proved that to him.

He sighs as he walks. He knows he's walking to Mr. Schue's glee club office, yeah, but it just feels like he's walking into something potentially unpleasant. Ugh, and he hasn't even had lunch yet! Okay, so he probably shouldn't skip his third period geometry, but whatever. It's not like he's gonna need that in his life and he really needs to talk to Mr. Schue; he just hopes the teacher thinks this is as important as he does. It'd come to him last night. He was dreaming actually, but thankfully this one went a lot better than the last time he had a dream involving Rachel.

It's the first time in a while he's felt kind of proud of himself. Like, winning Regionals was great and everything and he'd been proud of that, but how proud he is and was of Rachel overshadowed how proud he was of himself or anyone else. He's not saying it's a bad thing, 'cause she totally deserves, which is sort of the whole point of even going to see Mr. Schue.

He knocks softly on the door and Mr. Schue looks up, waving him in. "What's up, Finn? Do you need something?" He sets his paperwork aside.

Finn fidgets a little, 'cause he hasn't really thought about how he should actually broach this topic. "Um."

Mr. Schue arches an eyebrow and motions for Finn to sit down; he does. "Look, I just…" Finn takes a breath. "Are you proud of us, Mr. Schue?" he asks quietly.

The older man's brow furrows and when he speaks, he sounds concerned. "Finn, I've never been more proud of you guys in my life."

Okay, this is a good start then. "But we—I just, I know we all came together, just like when the Titans and won the conference championship, you know?" Mr. Schue nods. "Right, so you know how I got that MVP?"

"Yeah."

"I think we need an MVP for this too. We're a team, yeah, but there's always—I just…do you know what I mean?"

"Sure," Mr. Schue replies slowly. "But are you asking me to give you and MVP?"

The look he gives his teacher is incredulous. "What? No. _No._ I mean, _Rachel_, she just—she _needs…_" God, _why_can't he find the words? Does Rachel always trip him up this way?

"Finn," the teacher says softly. "I can't just give her an award. But I do like the idea of an MVP. We can take a vote on who it goes to, though."

"It's going to Rachel," he says firmly.

"If people vote for her, yes. And Finn, I'm not disagreeing with you, but the club—"

"Is going to vote for Rachel," he cuts in. He misses the days when Mr. Schue had faith in all of them, was more connected to all of them. But he guesses the guy's just got a lot going on or something, even though he thinks there might be something weird going on between him and Ms. Holliday. He gets up from his chair to leave so he can actually make his fourth period class.

"How can you be so sure of that Finn?"Mr. Schue looks kind of sad, and Finn can't help but think again that he seems more beaten down than he used to. It doesn't really excuse the way he's treated Rachel, telling her she's terrible and stuff, be he can't really say much 'cause he did a piss poor job of defending her. Something else he had to work on, he thinks.

"Because she's the only one who deserves it," he answers calmly before waving a little and walking out of the office.

Okay, that's out of the way, he thinks. He just barely makes it to his English class and pretends to pay attention. But this time it's not 'cause he's thinking about Rachel's butt or how he's dreading prom. He's just…thinking, like in general. When he was a kid, he always thought being popular, or like getting the position to be popular, would be his biggest problem—that hardest thing he'd ever have to face.

But falling in love and being in love and losing his love—all that other stuff doesn't even compare to how hard this is. He always thought love was easy or that it should be easy, but he knows better now. It's not that he regrets loving Rachel—he doesn't. Like, at all. It's the best thing that he's ever done, the only thing that's ever felt _right._But that doesn't mean it's all easy, but he guesses that hard parts make the best parts even better. He just wants those best parts back, you know?

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful. Which he supposes is better than being too eventful in the bad way, so okay. He'll take whatever he can get at this point. He must be pretty desperate.

But it's all worth it, everything—all the confusion and hurt and pain and just general suckishness—it's all worth it when he goes to glee club rehearsal that afternoon. See, unlike Mr. Schue, he'd _known_ everyone would vote for her, even if he kinda wants to punch Santana after her stupid comment before Rachel's speech. But even she looks teary-eyed as the tiny brunette pours her heart out about being chosen, but to him, it's always been her. He's always chosen her, to the dismay of everyone else he's ever tried to be with. And they all hug her because she's amazing and maybe they really all _have _realized how special he's always known she is.

Just seeing the look on her face, the watery smile she gives them, it makes his heart soar and if he wasn't sure before that he'd do anything to be deserving of her, he is now. Because he wants to see that smile every day.

And he wants her to feel like she has a reason to smile like that every day.

* * *

Even the rest of the week is okay, all things considered. He's still sad most of the time, but at least it doesn't feel like his heart is going to rip right out of his chest. Quinn sends him a lot of mean and sad looks _don't look back at her she's trouble you did what you had to do what you shouldn't have done in the first place_. It's weird though because she looks at him like he betrayed her or something and yeah he's not the brightest guy ever, but he's pretty sure that's hypocritical. Since all he'd done is stop putting up with her crap. He really hopes she, too, learns to deal with her insecurities, and not in a way that's as damaging as the way she does it now. 'Cause it's not fair to anyone.

It's Friday night and he slumps onto his bed tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his hands. Sometimes he thinks he's really getting there, like he almost feels okay. But then even the littlest things set him off and he's back to knowing he's never gonna make it out of here, so at least maybe prom king would have been worth it. Though he guesses that he's still got a chance. The hard part is figuring out what all he should really care about, you know? Because some things seem like they should be so obvious and then others just don't make sense to him, though maybe most things don't make sense to him anyway.

He thinks about maybe making a trip to Sam's house and talking to him, since he knows he's gotta do that at some point. But then he shoots that down, 'cause what if the dude is busy? He's dating Santana, after all. And he can't imagine that he's not getting a little _something something_with her on a Friday night. So yeah, he'll wait. 'Cause even when he was with Rachel, they spent a lot of Friday nights just pretending to watch musicals and making out.

He probably shouldn't think about that though, given how much he misses being able to do things like that. He doesn't have a chance to think about it much more, though, because he hears a knock on his door and it breaks him away from his thoughts.

"Come in."

"Hey," Burt says, motioning toward himself. "Come on."

He stares blankly at his step-dad. "Seriously, Finn. Let's go. We're going out tonight."

Finn slowly gets up off his bed. "Why?"

"Well, your mom and Kurt went shopping and I was your age once. Friday nights weren't spent at home alone feeling sorry for yourself. Just come on. I've already gassed up the truck."

"And they were spent driving around with your step-dad?" Finn jokes as he slips his sneakers on and grabs a hoodie.

Burt snorts and gives him a withering look, but before Finn can question if he'd crossed a line or something, the older man is already shuffling him out of the door. Maybe this will be a good thing, he thinks. His mom always tells him he should spend more time with Burt to make up for all the years he didn't have a father. And honestly, he really does like Burt; he's a good guy. And the distraction will definitely be better than spending the night alone because he can't bring himself to go out anywhere or even play a marathon round of Halo with Artie.

As he climbs into the truck beside Burt, Finn looks around and frowns. He didn't really live n the best part of Lima, but it wasn't bad either, considering it's Ohio, anyway. But whether it's this part or the bad part or the relatively good part, this isn't where he wants to stay. Like, he's known that for a while, obviously. But it's so barren and boring and _dead_ here, even though it's pretty much spring now. And the people never look happy, though he guesses he can't really blame them. But as far as really being able to get out, he's still unsure of how that would even happen. Like, yeah his grades had started improving while he was dating Rachel, and then they stayed pretty decent because it was just a habit to study and stuff, though he's never realized that until now. He guesses even when she's not around, she's always still _around,_you know?

Burt slows down a little as they near the park, which probably doesn't make much difference because there aren't many cars on the road anyway, but okay.

"This is where I met Kurt's mom, you know," Burt tells him quietly. "We were just kids, really, around your age. She was so pretty and I was there playing football with some friends. And things just sorta…happened, you know?"

Finn nods; he knows, he _does_know. It's like Rachel. One day he was content to be that asshole jock that everyone thought he should be, and the next, he sees her crazy, expressive eyes and her big, beautiful voice and that was it. He was pulled to her, even when he tried to deny it to her and himself. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I get it."

It's weird, he thinks. Not bad weird, but just different weird, slowly driving around town with his step-dad pointing out all these places where landmark events of his life occurred. But it strikes Finn as beautiful in a way, too, and that's a word he doesn't use often because he mostly just saves it for when he's thinking about Rachel. But it's true. And he hopes someday, regardless of where he's living, he gets a chance to do this with his kids too. His and Rachel's kids even, maybe.

His step-dad pulls into a diner parking lot (Finn always forgets that there are other places to eat in Lima besides Breadstix) and Finn looks at him questioningly.

"Well, I noticed you skipped dinner again and I know how much you kids need to eat. And well, this is where I was sitting when I realized I wanted to propose to your mom. So here we are, come on."

Burt lets him order waffles for dinner because he's cool like that and only gives him a _sorta_weird look when he says he wants French fries too.

"Hey, Finn." Finn looks up from his grape soda, curious at Burt's serious tone. "Are you, y'know, feeling any better or anything?"

Finn lifts his mouth from the straw and smiles a little. "Yeah, I guess so. I just…I really love her, you know? Rachel, I mean. And I know people always say when you're sixteen or seventeen, that you don't know what love is and you just feel infatuation. But when I look at her, when I'm with her, you know? I don't feel infatuated, I just feel like, yeah, this is where I'm supposed to be. I feel like my life makes some kind of sense." He shrugs a little, wishing it helped him feel less embarrassed about turning all girly on his step-dad, who is kinda the most butch guy he's ever met. But Burt doesn't laugh in his face or tell him that the people who say he doesn't know what love is are right.

"I believe you," he says honestly. "She makes you happy, son. Even I could tell that."

"Why do you do that?" Finn asks.

Burt swallows his spaghetti and frowns. "Why do I do what?"

"Call me son."

The older man scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, running a hand over his hat before answering with a shrug. "I think of you as my son, Finn. That bother you?" A frown creases in his forehead.

But Finn only smiles reassuringly. Maybe if this were months ago, he would scowl or be annoyed, but it's not, so he isn't. "Nah," he replies. "It's cool. Thanks."

Burt smiles back and Finn finally, like, _really_gets it. He does have a family. It's not like him and his mom and then Kurt and his dad anymore. It's all of them and they're together because, yeah, his parents got married, but it's all of them. Kurt isn't just his step-brother. They're really like real brothers now and that, too, well is beautiful and stuff.

"You know," Burt muses, "I never really thought of myself as being trapped here." He looks at Finn. "I'm not saying this to make you think you should stay here when you're done with school and all that. I never really wanted to live anywhere else 'cause I think I'm pretty suited for this kind of life. But you, Finn, you've got so much going on for you. And if your dream is to get out of Lima, you gotta start considering how you're gonna make that happened. I know you can do it, and your mom—she's real proud of you, ya know. And she just loves you to pieces, she does. And you know if you ever need one of us—or even Kurt—for anything, we'll do our best to help you, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks." He takes another bite of his waffle and pats the man's hand. He can't explain why it is he did that, but it's something Rachel would always do when she was trying to placate him and it isn't a sexual thing—just a comforting one. And Burt's spend more than enough time comforting him and stuff, so he needs to return the favor. He needs to return a lot of favors, he thinks. But he'll get there. Because his mom and Burt and Kurt all really care about and believe in him. And Rachel, Rachel does too even though sometimes he can't figure out why. And that's four more people who have faith in him than he'd ever thought he'd have, so he at least owes it to them to make the effort, right?

He's pretty sure yes is the answer to that one.

On the way home, Burt tells him stories about Kurt and his mom, about how lucky he is to have found Carole, and says how he really thinks Finn and Rachel can be _that_couple—that one who makes it for real. And it almost brings tears to Finn's eyes to hear his step-dad (maybe just his dad) have so much faith in him. And he realizes this is how Rachel must have felt when everyone voted her for MVP—chosen, wanted, believed in all around. And it's such an amazing feeling and he doesn't want to let it go.

He promises to himself to make her feel like this as much as he possibly can, and to let himself feel like this as much as he can, too.

* * *

He spends most of the weekend pounding away at his drums, and he's pretty sure that's a lot healthier than moping. It's a good stress reliever too, so that's good and everything.

Kurt comes in a couple times to tell him he's trying to have a musical marathon and Finn's drumming is too loud, but a half an hour later, Finn would forget and start drumming again. In the end, Kurt decides he'll just teach Finn the proper way to moisturize instead. And Finn pretends to listen because honestly, he doesn't know the difference between a facial cleanser and facial mask and he doesn't really care that much. 'Cause for some reason, his skin is like pretty good and stuff, but he humors Kurt anyway 'cause what else is he gonna do?

He also makes sure to give his mom hugs when he leaves the house and it doesn't bother him because he loves her and she deserves to know that, and it makes her smile whenever he does. And he just wants to show her—like he wants and needs to show a lot of people—that he loves and respects her and he's glad she believes in him. And he appreciates it more than he can ever find the words to say it all out loud, you know?

He takes a deep breath in preparation for his upcoming confrontation. Glee club rehearsal is over and he needs to just dive right in. And okay, yeah that had been his approach to getting Quinn, too and that didn't work out so well, but this is different okay?

_Just step up and do it you tore him down and now you gotta build him back up gotta build yourself back up can't do that without stability and no one trusts you when you steal their girlfriends away even I know that maybe especially I know that just do it._

"Sam," he says, approaching the blonde. They're the only two left in the choir room and the tension is palpable. Being bros with Sam like he used to be at one point feels so far away.

"Hey," he says back, his eyes hard. He looks uncomfortable and Finn can't really blame him; he was sort of a douche to the Beiber lookalike. Still, he hoped Sam would at least hear him out before wanting to punch him and stuff. And he'd seen what Sam had done to Karofsky and those guys earlier in the year before Kurt transferred. Dude's strong.

"Okay, this is awkward," he mutters to himself. Then he takes another deep breath. "I know you think I'm an asshole—" Sam snorts affirmatively. "But I am sorry, man. I mean, I shouldn't have let Quinn…you know. I just, I know it's hard for you to understand 'cause you're all confident and stuff, but I didn't mean to mess you up and stuff. I wasn't like, trying to steal Quinn from you for the sake of it."

Sam eyes him appraisingly. "Whatever dude, does it even matter anymore?"

"What?"

"Do you know how humiliating it is for me? That I even let myself believe you and Quinn and the crap you told me? Yeah, no thanks. Just drop it, okay? We're teammates and that's cool, but—okay, I need to go, Finn. I'll see you around," he says over his shoulder.

Finn shakes his head and sighs, but he's not surprised as he watches the other dude walk away. He guesses the only good thing is that he actually did what he needed to do. But he knows when Quinn and when Rachel cheated on him with his friend, it's not like he immediately forgave Puck. Although at least _he_—Finn—made the effort to apologize. Like, Puck sorta manned up, but he never really apologized. He doesn't know how much difference it would have made, but he could have appreciated the effort.

Whatever, he thinks. It's fine. He'll just back off on it for now, but he _will_make it up to Sam someday. He needs to think on that more, too. Maybe he can ask Rachel. He'd texted her some over the weekend, and she'd kept her promise to respond and be there for him.

And it's a really pleasant coincidence that he finds her still in parking lot as he leaves the building. "Rach!" he calls.

She turns around, waving, a smile spreading over her face that he can't help but return. "Finn, hello! How are you doing?"

His smile fades a little, but yeah, only a little. "I'm okay enough," he answers honestly. "But can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she says slowly. "Are you sure you're okay, Finn?"

"Yeah, yeah." He helps her put her backpack in the car before leaning against the door and folding his arms over his chest. "I tried to apologize to Sam."

"Oh." She bites at her lower lip a little. "And?"

"He's pissed. But before you say anything, I'm not saying he should forgive me and stuff right away, 'cause that would make me like hypocritical and stuff. But I just…do you think I should like leave him alone or what?"

"Why are you asking me?" she asks softly, looking up at him, her eyes large and expressive. He frowns because he doesn't know if she means that like she doesn't want him to be asking her—but that doesn't seem right because that doesn't seem like Rachel, you know?—or because a lot of times he tends to just bottle things up. But he's trying not to because that's the way he's been doing stuff and it hasn't worked out yet, so figures if he wants to get better, he's gotta change his strategy or whatever, you know? Like, sometimes he pays attention in history when they're talking about wars, so he picks on some stuff like that.

"Well, I just…you'll tell me the truth, Rachel. And that's what I need."

Then her smile shows up again and she says, "Well, I know I never gave up on getting you to forgive me. But take it from me, you don't want to force it on him. If an opportunity presents itself, of course you should go for it! But I think you and I both know being too needy about it won't help." She looks down at the pavement momentarily. "I know the cases aren't exactly the same, but the principle applies. Sam's a good guy and so are you, Finn. He'll get there just like you did."

"Thanks," he says. He purses his lips. "So, um, how are you?"

"I'm great, thank you! I was talking to Mr. Schue earlier today and I think the idea we're forming for Nationals will be _spectacular!_I was going to talk to you about it, but I wanted to run the general idea by Mr. Schuester first so he wouldn't shoot the idea down before we put all the work into it."

"Yeah, totally. I get it. I mean, if you're not busy or something, you can come over and tell me about it. I'm sure it's awesome."

"Sure," she says, almost a little shyly. "I'd love to."

"Cool."

He still sometimes can't wrap his head around Rachel Berry, but like, in a good way, seriously. Like, how someone can be that strong and that amazing with all these ideas? It just blows his mind. And she's talking a mile (or five hundred) a minute and some of the words (or most of them) go over his head, but he gets the gist of it and it's just…it's familiar and he likes it. He's smiling goofily at her, he's pretty sure, but he doesn't give a damn.

"That sounds _awesome,_Rachel," assures her. "You're amazing, you know that, right?"

She blushes and thanks him, and the conversation turns to lighter matters. They talk about their math teacher, Mrs. Perkins' greasy hair and how it freaks them out. He tells her that Burt got him more tickets to go see the Reds and maybe she should come with him some time, and she says only if she goes to the Lima Theatre Guild's production of _Billy Elliot_with her. He laughs and agrees and falls into the routine of being comfortable with her again.

He remembers that time in the choir room after the "My Headband" fiasco when she'd said it was silly for the two of them to pretend they weren't comfortable with each other. And he'd agreed, but now he's finally getting it—like he's getting a lot of things.

"I heard about you and Quinn," she says quietly at one point, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah, well…" He shrugs. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He looks at her. "No, you're not."

She sucks in a breath. "Okay, I'm not completely sorry you broke up. But she brings you down, Finn. She needs to work on herself too. But I _am_sorry she hurt you. And that I hurt you by being irrational."

"No, it's fine. Or it will be anyway, but yeah. Just, it's fine, okay? It wasn't that big a deal. It's just for the best, I guess. But you're right, she does have shit to deal with too. I hope she does," he admits in a whisper.

It's probably stupid, but he figures if he gets so many chances, Quinn should too. He does know her, and she could be really good and nice and stuff if she tried. But she doesn't have the confidence to try. He remembers all those talks in elementary school about how bullies are only bullies because they feel bad about themselves and being mean to people makes them feel powerful. He thinks Quinn probably needs a friend like he needs Rachel to help him, and needs a family like he has because even though she lives with her mom, they're not really close. He kind of wants to be that person, just so she has _someone_but he can't. He just can't because there's too much between them and not enough between them.

"So what are you doing for prom now?" Rachel asks.

He hasn't really thought about it 'cause all the thinking he's done about prom really has just been whatever it was Quinn would tell him. "I dunno," he says. "Maybe nothing."

"Oh, Finn, no! But it's Junior Prom! You _have _to go."

He raises an eyebrow. "Who are you going with?"

She swallows thickly. "Well, actually, Mercedes and I are going together…"

"Oh. That's cool," he says half-heartedly. But he guesses it's better than her going with some other guy; he doesn't think he could handle it. Especially now that they're in their "we're going to be in a relationship again at some point but not yet, so we're just going to be friends and stuff" stage.

"Yeah," she agrees softly.

He's pretty sure they're both thinking about what it would be like if they went to prom together.

* * *

Finn rubs a hand over his forehead. He really hates headaches, like _really_ hates them. He's pretty sure tonight is supposed to be something important, but he just feels like crap and sleeps a lot, ignoring whoever's been knocking on his door throughout the day. His stomach feels all weird, too. _Ugh,_ he thinks. _At least it's not mono._

He dozes off again, and again and again, which would be okay if he didn't keep waking up. He rolls over in his bed and it's a little after ten o' clock and he briefly wonders where everyone is before he remembers his parents are out tonight and Kurt is…somewhere. Nnng, thinking hurts more than usual and he feels really hot. Shedding his shirt, he reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table and takes a small sip.

Water reminds him of Rachel _everything reminds you of Rachel you idiot like the color pink cause it's her favorite and it's like her lips but obviously so much softer you don't do well not thinking of her maybe it's okay because you love her_because of this story she told him once over the summer about her dads bringing a glass of it to her when she's sad. It made him smile—that she has those moments with her dad. And it makes him smile now and he hopes she's happy wherever she is right now.

Which is why he's scared shitless when she storms into his room wearing—_her prom dress._

Oh _shit._ Tonight _had_been important! See, what's up with his brain? He's been doing okay most of the time; he hangs out with Rachel a lot. And he'd even talked to Quinn a couple times just so she knew he didn't hate her and stuff. His grades are going up again and he's looking forward to being done with the school year, but he mostly doesn't think about prom and all that, and Kurt spends a lot of time with Blaine and had gotten ready over at his house, which is why he guesses his brother hadn't been down his throat about it all.

Whatever, he doesn't need prom. And there's always next year and stuff.

"Finn Hudson!"

"Rachel," he croaks back, sitting up. She's staring at him and well, he's staring right back because she looks perfect and beautiful and amazing and he thinks maybe he's having a heart attack.

"What is the matter with you? I know we haven't talked much about your plans for prom because you kept saying you didn't want to talk about it and I didn't want to push you. But I assumed you had _some. _It's _prom_, Finn! It's so important to experience these things that make high school what it is!"

She looks at him pointedly and he almost laughs before catching himself because…yeah, he probably shouldn't laugh. "I feel like crap," he tells her honestly, his voice raw and scratchy.

Immediately, the look on her face turns to one of concern and she rushes (well as fast as she can rush in her heels) over to him, laying a hand on his head. "I'm sorry," she murmurs.

Rachel toes off her shoes and sets her clutch down in his chair before exiting his bedroom. He's kinda confused, but okay and God, but she looks so pretty and maybe he should tell her that. Yeah, yeah he should. He will. Totally.

She returns a few minutes later with a wet washcloth and places it on his forehead and he looks up at her drowsily. "This is redundant," he says, smiling.

And the laughter just bubbles out of her until she collapses on the bed next to him, the smooth material of her dress pressed up against his chest as she shakes. He laughs too because hearing her laugh, it's like, infectious and melodious and a bunch of other girly words that he probably shouldn't use, but doesn't really care about anyway, so whatever. He realizes when it is that she notices that she's resting against his naked chest because her body stiffens and her cheeks turn red and she looks so, so beautiful; he doesn't even have the words.

"Rachel, you look…_stunning,_" he whispers. "So pretty."

It relaxes her like he'd hoped it would and she smiles. But she moves to sit up, her back resting against his headboard as she strokes his hair.

"Thank you. I was really looking forward to seeing you," she confesses. "I didn't know you were ill."

"Yeah, it's just as well. I mean, I didn't have a date or anything anyway."

She doesn't say anything for a while and he's starting to fall asleep again because he's tired and sick and her fingers in his hair are just so soothing and—but then he hears a sniffle. He knows that sniffle. Managing to sit up next to her, he takes her face in his hand and brushes away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes with his thumb. "What's wrong?" he asks quietly. "What is it?"

She shakes her head, but he knows her better than that and he knows _she_knows he knows her better than that. "Rachel."

"I'm just scared," she whispers.

A million thoughts race through his head. Had someone hurt her? What happened tonight? "Why?" he whispers back, dreading the answer.

She looks at him with her teary eyes and he feels his heart clench. "I'm just scared it will stop."

He doesn't know what she means. "What'll stop, Rach?"

The words she says next are so quiet he has to strain to hear them. "I'm scared people will stop liking me. I've gone so long being generally hated, but when you guys gave me that MVP, when you _chose_me, I felt like I finally belong. I finally had friends. I don't think I could make it through giving that all up."

Oh, god, she's perfect. Everyone gets on her for being selfish and sure she likes the spotlight, but her heart is so big and loving and forgiving. He makes a promise to himself to not allow that to happen because she doesn't deserve that. She deserves to have people who love and respect her and he knows he's one of the few people who always have. And that's one thing he's actually really good at—loving and respecting her.

"They won't," he tells her firmly. "They won't."

"Finn," she says, like she's pleading him to understand. "If we lose Nationals, everyone is going to blame me. Because I came up with the idea that got us through Regionals and they're all on board with our idea for Nationals, and if we lose—" Her voice breaks momentarily. "They're going to hate me."

He pulls her into his chest and strokes her hair. "No, no they won't. Because they get it now, Rachel. They know how hard you try and they know how serious Vocal Adrenaline is when it comes to competitions. They won't," he repeats.

She just nods into his chest and he thinks she feels so good pressed up against him, but that's not what this is about. "Hey," he says. She looks up at him. "I love you."

"Finn—"

"No." He holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm just telling you so that you know and you don't forget. I'm not saying I'm ready yet, or that you are. But just, yeah, just remember that, Rachel."

She tears up again, but this time she hugs him tightly and he can smell her hair and it's all so comforting and familiar and perfect and yeah, it's good, okay?

"So," he says, trying to distract her, "who won?"

She smacks his shoulder playfully, "You did! Which is how I ended up here because no one could _find_you. And you didn't answer your phone when I texted."

"Oh," he yawns. "Yeah I think it's on the other side of the room or something."

"They gave your crown to Puck," she tells him quietly.

He seriously, like, _snorts._ "_What?_"

She looks at him sadly. "Since you were missing in action and Lauren won Prom Queen, the prom committee deigned to give the title to Puck. I'm sorry," she says. "I really did try to persuade them not to."

He grins a little, imaging her sticking up for her in her pretty dress, her hair all done up fancy and stuff, but still being the fierce Rachel Berry that she is. But then… "Lauren won?"

"Yeah, I, um, I even voted her. But only because she threatened me and she's really quite intimidating." She yawns too and he wonders how much dancing she'd done tonight. But knowing Rachel, it was probably a lot.

He feels kinda bad that Quinn didn't win, even after the crap she'd put him and Rachel through, she'd still put a lot of hope and work into her campaign, and it isn't as if the girl has that much going on in her life at the moment. He thinks maybe he knows now how to make it up to Sam, too. But he'll think more on that later because Rachel is starting to fall asleep against him, and it's not like that bothers him or anything, but he needs to ask her a question first.

"Did you have a good time?"

"It was wonderful," she replies sleepily. He's been running his fingers through her hair for the last half an hour and he remembers how it always used to make her sleepy, but that had sort of been the point, you know? And Burt and his mom would probably be upset if they saw her sleeping in here when they came in tomorrow morning, but he'd deal with that later 'cause he just wanted her to feel comfortable. And if she felt comfortable sleeping in his arms sitting up, then okay, he'd deal with that too. "I missed you, though," she adds softly a few minutes later.

He smiles, because it's nice to hear that, even if his stomach is still weird and he hopes he doesn't barf on her in the middle of the night. And he's not sure if he's contagious or what, and usually that would freak Rachel out 'cause he remembers that time Rachel got sick, like really sick, and she was all dramatic and stuff. And afterwards, even though she'd realized that people still cared about her regardless—or at least that he did, though he thinks now that a lot of people have been added to that list—she hadn't wanted to get sick again, just in case. She still had dreams, after all.

But she's looking happy enough and he's pretty tired too, since his main cure for illness is sleeping even more than usual. He closes his eyes and notes how her breathing is slowing down. But before he finally falls into sleep, he hears her murmur something, her voice low and breathy. "I love you too, just so you know."

And he smiles because yeah, it might still take some time, but everything? It'll work out.

It just has to.

* * *

_And there we go, there ends chapter three. What do you guys think, one more chapter in which they finally reconcile? Or just be done with it now? Let me know._

Thanks again for all your support and feedback. Reviews = love :)


	4. Back to Love

**A/N:** _hi everyone, sorry for the delay. but my exams are over, so I bring you the final chapter of this story. thank you so much for all your alerts, favorites, and reviews. they mean so much to me and thank you so much for sticking around for the ride. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations and please do continue to let me know your thoughts on this. once again, thank you!_

_disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee or its affiliates._

* * *

"It's so pretty," she says in awe. They're walking around Central Park and it's sunset, so it's like super romantic and stuff. But they're not actually together—_still_—so he doesn't know if it's a good thing or not—the romantic part, that is. Either way, it really is awesome and he's going to enjoy all the time with her that he can get.

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling crookedly.

They'd left Ohio late this morning and arrived in New York a few hours ago. Mr. Schue had demanded that everyone use the "buddy-system" to explore the city and they all had to stay within six blocks of each other at any given time. But finally, they had all agreed they wanted to check out Central Park and he'd thought Rachel might actually implode from trying to contain her excitement.

Anyway, so that's where they are now and he's trying to keep his mind off the coming days since today is really their only free day. He's actually more nervous for the competition than he lets on. Yeah, he'd assured Rachel that no one will hate her if they end up losing, and he's pretty sure he'd been right. But that's not the real issue. He doesn't actually know what the real issue is, but that's not surprising but he rarely knows anything he probably should know, at least when it comes to the stuff inside his head.

But it's New York and it's Nationals and it's life. And sure Vocal Adrenaline doesn't have that toolbag Jesse kid anymore, but they have Sunshine. And sure, she's not as good as Rachel (but come on, _no one_is) but she's still pretty good. And they've always been better dancers than New Directions.

And it's probably not the end of the world (or the club) if they lose but he wants them to do well. It's pretty easy to project outwardly (he guesses he's been spending a lot more time with Rachel lately, but that's nice so it's okay) that he's confident they're gonna win, but inside there's still a mess of all kinds of things. Like, it's a lot better than it used to be—totally. But there's stilling _something_that just hasn't quite clicked yet.

But she's gripping his forearm gently and smiling and, well, just being Rachel and he decides it's best to just enjoy what they have for today and worry about the rest tomorrow, right? But his feet kinda hurt and he thinks even though he should probably get used to it if he's ever going to live here some day—and he wants to, but that's really far in the future and he and Rachel still have things to get through and stuff before any of that—he should probably get used to it. But since it's his first day here, he figures the world (and himself) can cut him some slack. He plops down on the grass under some kind of tree or another, accidentally pulling Rachel down too.

She screeches a little and he tries not to laugh as Mr. Schue and Puck look over at them, the latter smirking. "Sorry," he manages. But she smoothes out her skirt, brushing dirt and stuff off her arm.

He reaches toward her hair 'cause she's got, like, a twig or something in there and if this were Tarzan or something, it'd probably be totally hot and she wouldn't even care. But it's not and she's Rachel and even though she looks just as pretty with random shit in her hair, he knows she wouldn't appreciate it if he just left it there. And he figures he's done enough stuff she hasn't appreciated (or deserved) to her. "Here," he murmurs. "You have a…" He trails off, instead, plucking the twig from her softly curled hair and tossing it aside.

It's just a small touch, but it gets to him. There's still so much of a spark in something as simple as that. There's a jerk of electricity or some other sciencey thing he doesn't understand that flows through his fingers and up his arm until his whole body is like tingly or something. And seriously, is this normal? Has it happened before? He doesn't think he remembers it, and he's pretty sure this is actually something he should and would remember. Maybe he's just hyper-aware of her right now or something. Either way, it's not really an unpleasant sensation or anything, so whatever.

"Th-thanks," she responds quietly. And the look on her face makes him think she feels it too. This is a good thing, right?

"Um," he says awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands now. That's the thing about, like, knowing you're going to date at some point, but not actually dating yet. Like, there are certain things you can do when you're dating that you don't have to think about. He could just pull her into his lap and stroke at her hair, or take her hand and brush his lips over her knuckles, or even just plant one on her like he finds himself wanting to pretty much all the time. Like, what is he supposed to do with his hands? Seriously? He wants to touch her again to see if the tingly feeling will come back, but since they aren't dating and it's not like that night of Prom when she broke down in his bed and he comforted her, does he need a reason to touch her again?

But she rests a hand on his knee and sort of leans against his arm, so he figures it's okay to just revel in the feel of her being so close. He'd almost forgotten how awesome of friends they were 'cause when they dated, it wasn't like they _weren't_friends, but the friendship was just part of being a couple. And then afterward, he was so messed up that friendship was barely even on his mind. But then they started hanging out more and more and he realized what he'd been missing all along.

He looks down at her and smiles a little before turning his attention to the sunset, which she's paying absolute attention to. But it's nice 'cause even though they obviously get sunsets back in Ohio, they're just so much grander and prettier and everything-er here in New York. He supposes that's how life is probably here too.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"D-did you mean what you said earlier? About my song?" She bites at her lip a little and looks down at her lap.

"Of course," he answers quietly. He places a finger under her chin, tilting her face up towards his, watching as her eyes search his. "Rachel, the song you wrote for Regionals—it was _amazing._ But—but _this_ I have even less words for than usual." He tucks a stray stand of hair behind her ear with his other hand. "You're amazing and this song, no matter what happens for the team—it's going to blow _everyone_ away. Everyone." His voice drops to a whisper. "I'm _so_proud of you—I mean, I always am. But I just—and everyone else is going to be almost as proud of you as I am. I promise."

Her eyes shimmer a little and she leans into his hand, murmuring, "Thank you." She places her hand over his. "For the record though, just because I wrote it doesn't mean the performance would be anything without you. You sound _spectacular_, Finn. And I want you to know I'm proud of you too."

She smiles and so does he because it's hard to not when she looks at him like that. And he thinks he probably doesn't deserve all the things she seems to feel for him. But he doesn't think _anyone_deserves the kind of love she can give. But since he loves her too, so much that it hurts at times, maybe he deserves a little of it. And that's better than nothing.

They don't really say anything else, but that's okay too. It's not an awkward silence, it's just a _silence._But as long as they're there and stuff, he figures that's all that matters. But when it gets dark-ish, Mr. Schue says they have to start heading back because they have a big day tomorrow.

He doesn't really see how; they're not performing tomorrow, but the day after. But since they have to attend and watch other clubs perform, maybe Mr. Schue is right. Besides, he can always sleep during the acts that suck, right? Well, his plan is to sit next to Rachel, so maybe not. Whatever. All that can occur when he gets to it. Right now, he just wants to go back to the room he's sharing with Sam ('cause apparently Mr. Schue didn't see that as a dick move or something) and sit with Rachel and maybe find something to watch on TV.

She actually takes his hand as they walk back, but he doesn't know if it's because she's trying to tell him something, if she just wants his support and wants to show him he has hers, or if maybe she's just cold. It's probably not the first, since Rachel is pretty upfront about…well, everything. And since it's actually pretty warm out—given that it's May and all—that leaves the middle option by default. Really, it's only been two weeks since Prom, but most of the time, he can still feel how nice it was to sleep with her nestled closely to him in his bed—now that he can actually fit into his bed.

One thing about Rachel that he loves—out of, like, a trillion things—is how honest she is. It's refreshing and…it makes his feelings easier to sort out. He wishes he'd remembered all that sooner, and who knows, maybe they'd actually be dating again and stuff by now. But the point here isn't about regret; it's about how Rachel is always telling him what needs to be said and he can ask her questions and she'll answer them without making him feel like a moron. And at the same time, she allows him to be honest with her, too. She _likes_ and _values_his opinion.

It was probably easy to get caught up and forget all that when they dated 'cause he'd just gotten used to it. And then he'd started going around with Quinn again and sometimes it seemed like she was just trying to tear him down. And maybe she was. But he can't hate her for it. He actually feels kinda bad because she looks like he looked the first month after he and Rachel broke up; like she doesn't know what she has to live for, but there has to be something, so she keeps on living anyway. And since he can relate, he thinks he's ready to take that final step in maybe helping her find what she's looking for, since they both know it isn't him.

When they finally reach the hotel, though, Rachel says she's probably going to just got to bed because she's tired and it's important to be well-rested and stuff like that. He does his best to mask the disappointment, but she's always been able to read him no matter what. So she squeezes his hand and says softly, "I had a nice time tonight, Finn. Thank you."

He's not really sure what she's thanking him for, exactly, but he grins down at her and squeezes back. She even leans up and plants a small kiss on his cheek before telling him goodnight and walking to her own room.

It's pretty safe to say the tingly feeling comes back and he's still standing there rubbing his cheek like a doofus when Sam walks up, eying him warily before walking into the room.

When he has feeling in his face again, he shuffles into the room, closing the door behind him and taking a deep breath. "Can we talk?" he asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Sam looks across at him. "About?"

"Look, I know you think—and I've apologized but really I am sorry, but just…let me make it up to you."

The blond-haired boy doesn't say anything.

"Talk to Quinn," he says seriously.

Sitting up, Sam frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. "What?"

Finn sighs. "I know she—I mean, she does care about you. And whatever you two decide to do, that's your business and I'm not gonna interfere ever again. But she…she needs a friend, dude. And so, I think, do you. And I know you know the real Quinn—the one who doesn't only care about popularity. The one who's vulnerable and is a good person. And she'll be a better friend to you than I could or than most people could. She doesn't feel like she has anything left—I've been there, so I get it. And I think you get it too. All I'm saying is talk to her."

"Why is it you suddenly care?" Sam asks slowly.

He purses his lips, looking for the best way to answer this. "Well, I've always cared. Quinn and me, we have history, sure. But that's about all. But she deserves someone who can make her happy and I…I can't do that. And okay, I know you and I are, like, rivals and stuff—and that's probably not gonna change. But I do think you're a good guy and a good addition to the club. And I would be your friend if I really knew how to, but I've already got all this shit going on that I'm trying to figure out and—"

Sam holds a hand up, silencing him. "So you want me to forgive you?"

He shakes his head. "That's up to you. I know what I did wasn't cool. All I'm saying is give Quinn a chance. Maybe not to be your girlfriend, like I said, that's all up to you guys. But let her be a person again, and let _yourself_be a person again. I mean, you were dating Santana for a while, but we all knew…" He trails off, shaking his head as he grabs his toothbrush, suddenly more tired than he'd thought he was. "Just think about it," he says before he heads into the bathroom.

He hears Sam mutter a quiet, "Okay," but doesn't say anything else.

He doesn't think Quinn has ever really had a friend who's a guy who's _just _a friend. Not like he has with Rachel. Well, Rachel's not a guy, but it's the same kind of principle. And granted, he and Rachel have always had more feelings than "just friends" kinds of feelings, but it's their friendship that led them there.

And he's pretty sure that's ultimately what's leading them back to each other. Once the friendship is fixed, the rest should be easy comparatively.

He's just still waiting for that one final click.

* * *

"What do you think so far?" he whispers to Rachel as they hit intermission. He's in a sort of nice outfit, since both she and Kurt convinced him that it would be best to dress up; it's proper audience etiquette for these types of events or something.

She turns to face him, whispering back, "I think all of these glee clubs are supremely talented, but they don't have a Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry duet in their back pocket, and the charisma and unique dynamic of New Directions."

He smiles at that, and at her optimism. "You really think we're going to win?"

She leans a little closer so no one else can hear, if that's what they're trying to do (he doesn't bother to tell her that no is paying attention to them). "I don't know," she admits. "But I do know we're better than at least half these groups so far, so at least we aren't going to come in dead last."

And that makes him feel a little better; to know that she's being realistic and he's not the only one who thinks there's actually a large possibility they won't win. He just hopes winning Regionals can be enough for them all—it's so much more than they got last year. "It also helps that the whole team is together again," she adds after a moment. He nods in agreement.

Kurt's been just over a week—since it took a while to get all the paperwork processed and stuff and he hadn't even known his brother was planning on transferring back, but whatever—but he realizes Rachel is right. They're complete again. So even if they don't win or place or show, at least they're all together, you know? He's starting to pick up on stuff like that, though he's pretty sure he got it from Rachel. He's not complaining though—just making observations. Which is also probably something he picked up from Rachel.

He watches as the performances start again, only dozing off during two of them. But seriously, who thinks a mash-up of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry is the kind of material that's capable of grabbing a National title? Yeah, exactly. No one in their right mind. Oh well, one less team he has to worry about beating.

He yawns as they're finally allowed to leave—and it's like seven o'clock and he's pretty much starving and Rachel laughs when she hears his stomach rumbling. But instead of going out to eat, she tells him to come back to her room and she'll make him something. He doesn't really know what she intends to make 'cause it's not like there's a full kitchen—or even a stove—in the hotel rooms, but he agrees regardless because it's Rachel and it's food, which is sort of an automatic answer of yes.

She's rooming with Mercedes and Tina, but they leave when he shows up with Rachel and he wonders if they think he and Rachel are going to have sex or something. That's a nice and vaguely disturbing thought. Not that he thinks sex with Rachel would be disturbing—on the contrary it will—would—will? be awesome, but he does find it weird that they're okay with the idea of he and Rachel getting it on. It's almost like they expected it. He wonders worriedly if people think he and Rachel are together again—not because he doesn't want to be or because he's embarrassed—but he doesn't want Rachel to think he's been telling people they are, since they haven't really talked about anything yet and even though he wants her, he knows he's not quite there yet and she might not be either. Still, thinking about having sex with Rachel is a dangerous line of thinking—one that he needs to shut down immediately.

She motions for him to sit down at the small table and he does, looking around the room. It's pretty much the same as his and Sam's, except it has girl lotion and jewelry and smells all over it. Rachel has a pretty distinctive scent he hasn't quite been able to come up with words to describe yet, but it's there. And he bets if he were to lay down in the bed she shares with—it looks like Mercedes—he'd be able to wrap himself in her blankets and just breathe her in. But then he thinks that might actually be creepy or something. 'Cause don't, like, stalkers do that or something? He doesn't stalk Rachel, though. He's not like that Jacob with the country for a last name kid with the gross hair.

Ugh, why are all his thoughts so ridiculous? Instead, he focuses his attention on the way she moves around the room. It turns out their dinner is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he's more than okay with that. Especially since she makes him three. He laughs appreciatively and murmurs, "Thanks, Rach," when she brings him a plate.

"I know it's not fancy," she says after taking a bite and swallowing primly. "But while I thoroughly enjoy the luxuries of New York, I also know that sometimes it's the simple things in life that mean the most. And I remember how much you love peanut butter and jelly, and how they remind you of being a child, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to make some."

He doesn't remember telling her all that (but he also doesn't remember what he ate for breakfast this morning—actually, it might have been Frosted Flakes—whatever) but he puts his second sandwich down on the plate and looks at her. "It was an awesome idea," he assures her gently. "And you make the best PB & J ever." He takes another large bite, his eyes closing a little. She really _does_make the best sandwiches ever. Like, if were gonna compare her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to music, they'd totally be the Eric Clapton of the group."

He finishes his last sandwich just as she gets ready to take her last bite of her one—and it should probably embarrass him that he's eaten so much or something, but it doesn't. He's finding it harder and harder not to just relax around Rachel, which he thinks it's a good thing since it must mean they're on their way.

But as he's thinking of something to say, she suddenly asks, "Do you want to go swimming?"

He stares at her. "Wh-what?"

"Swimming," she repeats, but not unkindly. "We'll have to wait an hour first, of course, because even though I've never personally confirmed that you get sick if you swim immediately after swimming, I still don't want to take the risk. Especially with the competition tomorrow. But…did you bring your swimsuit?"

"Um, no." He faces falls a little, and he adds quickly, "But it's not a big deal. I mean, I can just wear a pair of my basketball shorts."

"Are…are you sure?"

"Totally." He gives her that half-smile. "Swimming would be awesome." She smiles back and his mind starts racing because they haven't been swimming together since summer when they went to the beach (or as much of a beach as Ohio can claim to have) and his stomach got all tied in knots when he saw her in her bathing suit—not to mention the mental images it gave him for when he has his _alone time_or whatever in the shower. But is it disrespectful to think about that now? It's not like their together and he really needs to stop having these thoughts because he's just gonna confuse himself even more.

They pass the hour playing cards and talking about mostly nothing in particular. She somehow manages to persuade him to play Go Fish, but he tells her in return she has to let him teach her how to play poker at some point. She agrees, albeit reluctantly, and he finds himself thinking she'll probably find a way out of that one at some point, but he's content not to think about that for the moment.

When the hour is up (and she even sets the timer so they'd have exactly an hour since she can be anal about that stuff sometimes) she tells him to go ahead and get changed and she'll meet him in the pool room. He nods and says okay, but doesn't tell her that he has no idea where that is.

He ends up asking Sam, but Sam just looks at him like he's growing pizza out of his ears or something. But finally he finds Mr. Schue and asks him and after slightly (re: super) confusing directions, he does find his way to the pool room, though nearly drops his towel when he sees Rachel.

They're the only two in there and he _definitely_ doesn't remember seeing that bikini before. It's not trashy or anything, and it covers up the parts she's sensitive about, but it's white and _still_ there's all this smooth skin and—Jesus, he really had thought this would be a good idea? She smiles as she sees him approach and he's so caught up in how awesome and hot and beautiful and everything she looks that he doesn't he notice her appraising glances up and down his chest. It's probably a good thing since he wouldn't know if he should be embarrassed or not. Rachel has called him hot before and always made him feel like he was, but she's never actually _seen_him in so little clothes before (well, there was that time after Prom where he wasn't wearing a shirt but she was hardly checking him out so whatever)—he'd opted out of swimming at the beach that one time, claiming his stomach felt weird. But really, he'd been content just rubbing sun block on her every other hour or so and watching her as she splashed around in the water.

"Hey," he greets softly, dropping his towel on a lounge chair.

"Hi."

He stands there for a minute, unsure of what he's supposed to do now. But she takes his fingers and pulls him to the ladder and really, he usually just jumps in, but okay, whatever. He watches as she climbs in slowly, licking his lips at the goosebumps that form on her skin. "Is it too cold?" he asks, dipping a toe in.

She shakes her head. "It's rather warm, actually. Join me?"

He resists the urge to smirk and takes the ladder two steps at a time, swimming over to her. It's only like six feet at the deepest part, and not even quite that, since he can stand on the bottom and have his whole head above water, but he does notice how adorable she looks floating around 'cause she's all tiny and what not.

Again, he wonders what comes next, and again she speaks before he has a chance to. "How, um, how are you?" she asks softly, swimming nearer to him.

"I'm…okay," he answers honestly, knowing that she's not just making small talk. He smiles to prove it and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"I'm really glad," she tells him. Then she disappears underwater briefly and he watches a droplet of water make its way down her face, her hair clinging to his shoulders and then he just can't help it. Regardless of what he is or isn't ready for, he _needs_to kiss her.

He turns around suddenly, his weight pressing her towards the wall of the pool, silently thanking himself for moving towards a shallower part of the pool so more of her head is above the water. He leans in tentatively at first, watching her eyes. But he doesn't think she even registers what he's about to do because his lips then press against hers quickly and oh _God_, he's missed the taste of her. It's easier to admit in this moment, and it's definitely the truth.

She seems surprised, but definitely not unwilling, and her lips part under his, so he takes advantage of that and slips his tongue into her mouth. Her breaths are soft, but short, and they're filling his mouth and making it impossible for him not to groan a little, so he does, and rests his hands on her hips, squeezing softly.

The water is warm and making gentle waves around him and her lips are so soft and pliant under his and she still tastes the same and still tastes perfect. He grunts when she pulls away to suck at the spot just below his ear, but it's a little gratifying to know she still remembers how much he likes it and his grip at her waist tightens.

And maybe it's a little weird, but he licks a drop of water off her neck slowly, his eyes closing as he feels her body shiver against his. It's not like he really planned this, and he knows he should stop, but there's just—and _she_just…

She moans as his lips travel back to hers and he sucks lightly on her tongue, but then her hips press into his and it's too much and even though it feels like heaven or maybe even better, he pulls away, his breath ragged.

"Rachel, I…" He takes a deep breath, pulling his hands away. "I-I'm sorry." Her eyes look glassy and she's about to swim away from him and _shit_. "Wait." He gently takes hold of his wrist. "I'm not… I'm not completely sorry, I mean 'cause I've been wanting to do that for a while, but I just…I _know_it's you and it's always been you. I'm just still waiting. Just a little longer," he whispers pleadingly.

He sees her chest rising and falling under the water before he looks back at her face and sees her take a deep breath. "I'll wait for you," she murmurs. "I…I _am_ ready now, Finn. And I _will_ wait for you, but—but, in the mean time, there can't be any more of _this._" She gestures between both of their swollen lips. "It's not fair on either of us."

"Okay," he agrees. " I wasn't…this wasn't what I was thinking about when you suggested swimming, just so you know. There's just…it's something about you that makes me lose control like that sometimes," he admits, not looking at her. But she clasps his hand he notices that she's smiling again so things must be okay. But he also tells her they should probably get out then because he's thinking about it again and he doesn't want to make anything unfair; she agrees. She even stays holding his hand all the way up until they reach their floor.

And it's still a really nice feeling that he's excited to get back eventually.

Before he makes it to his room, though he sees his mom sitting in the common area, reading a book, and wanders over to her. "Mom?"

She looks up from her book and smiles warmly at him. "Finn, honey, what are you still doing up? You have a busy day tomorrow and—are you _wet?_"

He chuckles, about to sit down on the sofa beside her and then changing his mind, unsure if the hotel security people have rules against that or something. Either way, he really doesn't wanna piss them off or anything. "Yeah. I went swimming. But I'm heading to bed soon, so don't worry."

"I'm your mother," she says simply. "My job is to worry. But," she adds, standing up to look at him, "I've noticed you're doing a lot better lately and I just want you to know how glad of that I am."

And even though he's still mostly dripping and he knows he'll feel bad about getting her wet, he hugs his mom anyway 'cause she's awesome and he really hopes she knows that. And she's even awesome because she doesn't even seem to care that he's gotten her sweater all wet. "I'm really glad you came, mom," he whispers as she hugs him back. He doesn't care if that's wimpy or not; he isn't in junior high anymore and the fact is, he'd be nothing without his mom.

She sniffles a little, probably because she's a woman and he's learned that sometimes they get a little over-emotional, but he doesn't really mind, to be honest. "So am I," she says.

When they pull apart, she plants a kiss on his forehead and whishes him goodnight. He tells her the same. "Finn?" she says as he's turning to leave.

"Yeah, mom?"

"I'm proud of you."

He turns to flash her a quick grin and say thanks.

That's two people who've told him they're proud of him in two days. And they're two of the most important people in his life.

Maybe he really _is_getting somewhere.

* * *

He's fixing his tie when Sam walks up to him and then curses himself when he almost gets ready to block a punch. No hit comes, though.

"You were right," Sam tells him quietly.

This startles him, because it's not something people say to him that often. "A-about?"

"Quinn."

"Oh." He shifts from foot to foot and the shorter boy sighs.

"Look, I don't wanna punch your face off anymore. And I respect that you know what you did to me was douchey, so for now, I'm just gonna stick around and be there for Quinn like you told me to. And maybe she'll start to feel better. 'Cause you were right—I do know the real Quinn. And I like her a lot better than the Quinn I've seen over the last couple months. So…" Sam stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Thanks, man."

Finn holds out a hand, like for a truce or something—he doesn't really know, but he sees it in movies a lot, so it must count for something, right?—and Sam takes it. "Cool," he says and Sam nods.

And maybe things won't be so bad after all.

He finds Rachel just before they go on, but he doesn't say anything; there's too much and not enough to be said at this point, so he just hugs her tightly instead. And she hugs him right back and he knows they're going to kill this duet.

And they totally do. No matter what had happened between them or what will happen, there's always a spark there, even musically. And performing with her—and only her—is another thing he's missed dearly and everything she's written and everything she's singing gives him that tingly feeling again and he knows now that it's not just touching her—it's just _her._It's everything about her. But he finds himself more than willing to get used to the feeling.

As they sing the last line of the song, she looks over at him, smiling widely 'cause she knows as well as he does that they totally rocked it. Though he wonders briefly how they're going to top all this next year. But then he tells himself that's really far away and he should just focus on the moment, so that's what he does instead.

And their group number is just as good—another original song, though this one they'd all written together. He grins as Kurt sings his part and realizes it's not just Rachel's proud of—it's all of them. Even himself a little.

He finds himself hugging Rachel again as the crowd cheers excitedly for them, but really it all just ends in a group hug because this is it; this is _them._And there's been a lot of drama along the way, but it doesn't even matter anymore. He even squeezes Quinn's hand briefly to tell her that he gets it; that he hopes she finds what she needs. She smiles gratefully at him before they exit the stage to watch the rest of the performances.

But his jaw drops open, and so do the jaws of the twelve other members, _and_ Mr. Schue. 'Cause Vocal Adrenaline is all up there singing their _own_ original songs and he feels his body tense up. He's pretty sure they had a mole at New Directions' Regional, but he'd never put much thought into it. And now he feels like all the work they've done is crumbling around him because original songs is _their_thing. Not Vocal Adrenaline's. And while it's true they don't sound as full of life and heart as New Directions had, it still bothers him. He just feels betrayed or something. He can't really name the feeling, but whatever.

Rachel places her hand over his, but her jaw is tight and he can practically hear the gears churning in her head. When the performances for the day are over—the winners will be announced tomorrow—they all shuffle out together and he can help but vocalize his outrage. "Unbelievable!" He throws his hands up in frustration.

"Look," Rachel starts, being all leader-y and take charge-y and stuff. "I know this is sort of disastrous, but we've faced worse! At least they didn't completely steal our songs. We just have to have faith the judges will make the right call."

The team agrees, some more enthusiastically than others, as they slowly exit the venue.

"Rachel is right," Mr. Schue chimes in. "We should have expected something like this. But it means they're actually worried about us, so that's something."

He smiles a little, and then a little more when Rachel's hand squeezes his again and he knows they really need to talk, but he's still trying to get over his embarrassment about what happened last night. 'Cause the last thing he wants is for her to think he's leading her on or something. He's not. He _wants_to be with her. But they're still working on the whole timing thing and they still have things to discuss if they really want it to work this time, and he's pretty sure they both do. So he'll think some more and see what he can come up with.

There's an odd mix of glumness and excitement the rest of the night. They're all nervously awaiting tomorrow, but he knows it's hard for them all to shake the feeling they got gypped again. It's not bias—really—but their songs were better than Vocal Adrenaline's songs. Then again, they have more experience in this area, and more, like, heart and stuff. Sunshine has a lot of talent, but it seems like she always thinks it overshadows Rachel's, but it _doesn't._

Like, he knows how pissed everyone was when Rachel sent Sunshine to a (non-active) crackhouse and they wanted her so they could win. And he had understood their point of view, but that, that was a different Rachel. Or, like, not different exactly, but just like he has, she's grown up so much since then. And she still wants what's best for the team, of course, but now she has a better handle on what that actually is. He doesn't really think it would make a difference if Sunshine was on New Directions or not; their star will always be Rachel. _His_star will always be Rachel.

They're all sitting on the floor in Kurt and Puck's room (and surprisingly, neither had put up much complaint about being assigned to room with the other) eating pizza and chatting aimlessly, some weird show on the Spanish Channel playing in the background. Well, Rachel's eating a sandwich again instead, but still. He doesn't really remember a time when the team has ever been so unified. Rachel is sitting in between him and Kurt, who's also sitting next to Mercedes, who's next to Quinn. And they're all just, like, _there._Sure, Artie's in his wheelchair, and Brittany is in his lap, but there's no awkwardness or separation. Not even between him and Quinn and/or Sam. He sees them talking quietly to each other, but they're not touching or anything, so he assumes they're going with the just-friends route for now.

And he can attest to how well that works, 'cause look how far _he's_come since he's been "just-friends" with Rachel. But he's had the closure he needs with Quinn and has settled on civility as the best way to treat her. After all, they're still on the same team and it's hard to hold every little thing against her. It wasn't okay, but she's never had her own version of Rachel before to help her deal with her own insecurities. And if Sam can end up giving that to her, then he's pretty sure it's all for the best, right?

He turns to Rachel and murmurs near her ear, "I didn't tell you earlier 'cause we were all caught up in a bunch of stuff, but you were _amazing_today, Rachel. Take Regionals and multiply it by a thousand. You were perfect," he adds in a whisper.

She freezes momentarily, but then her eyes light up and a bright smile spread across her face as she looks at him. "Finn," she says, almost in wonder or something. "_Thank you._" She glances sideways and then turns to face him completely, hugging her knees up to her chest. "You were wonderful too, I hope you know that. We all were, actually. But I've missed singing with you—_really_ singing with you. I-It's like the times you've told me you can feel it when I sing, it's like that. I can feel it when you sing too, especially when you're really singing and you _know_you mean what you're singing. It was lovely."

He feels this weird clench in his heart and he's pretty sure he's too young to get a heart attack or something, so maybe it's just, like, butterflies. But actually, don't you get those in your stomach? Whatever. He takes a deep, slow breath, his mind racing. _This isn't it but you're so close you can taste it taste her you've tasted her though and it's good, so good home she's like home but you promised you wouldn't until you were sure you'll know when you're sure because you always know she smells so good though and that's like home too._

"I…" His voice cracks. Well, that's embarrassing, but okay. "I," he tries again. "I don't really know what to say other than if I inspire you like you said that one time, you inspire me too. In a lot of ways. But I missed singing with you too. I didn't even realize how much I missed it until we started practicing. But actually performing that song was a whole new level of epicness. I'm—I'm glad you asked me to be your duet partner," he tells her.

"So am I." He brushes a hand over her shoulder gently—the urge to touch her still there, but this counts as keeping his promise, right? Friends touch each other in friendly ways, which is all he's doing anyway.

He hears Mercedes laugh loudly, presumably at something his brother (he likes the way he doesn't feel a need to separate brother from step-brother anymore. They're a family, just like Burt had said, so they're just brothers) has said. The details here don't really matter though; what matters is it's not just him and Kurt as a family. But for all the times the club has said they accept each other and are a family, they finally actually _feel_like one. They're just…one. And all in all, he has to say it's a pretty awesome feeling.

As it turns out, they don't end up winning though. Or placing. Or showing. But they come in fourth and that's not too bad, right? It's their first year here and all. He just _hates_ how once again Vocal Adrenaline has cleaned their clocks; they don't _deserve _it. He makes a silent promise to himself that next year, those asswipes are going _down_. And the look on Rachel's face lets him know she's making a similar promise to herself—except probably with friendlier language.

Still, there's no overwhelming sense of defeat and that kinda takes the edge off. Like, they've made it this far, you know? And fourth out of, like, a million and five isn't bad at all. Maybe if he were in the same mind frame as a couple months ago, he'd be pissed and depressed, but he was also pissed and depressed about almost everything back then, too. So whatever. It's probably a good thing they're not flying back until tomorrow morning though because he thinks some extra time exploring the city will be good for them. Good for all of them, really.

He helps Mr. Schue carry the trophy to a cab. It's not that big, but it's not that small either and he figures it'll still look good next to their first place Regionals trophy anyway. Of course, it's not like all of them can fit in one cab, so Mr. Schue volunteers to take a cab back to the hotel with the trophy and Kurt goes with him, leaving his mom to, like, chaperone them or whatever. She makes her way over to him and her eyes are doing that shiny "I'm so proud of you" look and he realizes he'll never get tired of seeing it. And someday, he's gonna be and do stuff that makes the look permanent. He just is, okay? But like everything else, the details can wait for the time being.

"I talked to Rachel," she says quietly.

"I—oh, um," he splutters. _God, please tell me she didn't tell my mom about the pool incident._She sees the tension in his shoulders and drops a hand on one.

"Relax," she coos. "I was congratulating her on a wonderful performance yesterday and assuring her that Fourth Place is more than good enough. She said she agreed and that it wouldn't even be possible without you. She really cares about you, Finn," his mom says softly.

"I know, mom. I really care about her too, you know? I mean, I _love _her. I don't have to question it. It's just something I know every day when I wake up. I just don't quite know what to do about it yet."

She kisses his cheek, squeezing his shoulder. "I know, honey. But you're figuring it out—along with a lot of things. Burt told me he talked to you—don't worry," she adds quickly. "Anything you said in confidence to him, he didn't tell me. He just said you had a heart-to-heart and both of you were the better for it."

"Oh," he smiles, relaxing visibly. "Yeah, 'course. Hey, mom?" he asks.

"Yes, sweetie?"

He grins up at her, giving her a small hug as they walk. "I really am glad you're happy with him, I hope you know that."

"Oh, Finn," she murmurs. "I know. And I'm so glad you're happier now too."

He thinks maybe people would make fun of him for this sort of stuff, but he's always been close to him mom—for a long time he didn't even really have anyone else. And his mom gets him too; she doesn't expect him to be perfect. She just expects him to learn what the right thing is and to do it. Which is kinda how Rachel is, too; maybe it's why they like each other so much. It's not like his mom ever hated Quinn; he's pretty sure his mom isn't capable of hating _anyone._

But it was probably pretty easy for her to tell how much happier and confident and stuff he was with Rachel. _Is_with Rachel. They don't have to be a couple for her to have an effect on him, which is pretty nice, actually.

So the day isn't a total win, but it's not a total loss either.

Especially when, later that night, while he's packing up most of his stuff for the morning, Quinn knocks softly on his door. When he opens it, he's a little surprised (and okay, a little wary, but he doesn't figure it's not well-founded). "H-hey."

"Can I come in?" she asks quietly. "I won't be long."

He opens the door for her, wondering briefly where Sam is and then deciding the dude can take care of himself. He waits for her to continue talking.

"I'm sorry," she says. His eyebrow quirks up. "I know that doesn't mean a lot coming from me, but you were right. I shouldn't have done what I did to you or to Rachel. And it's _really_hard for me to be here right now and apologize and actually mean it, so I hope you can appreciate it a least a little bit."

He snorts a little, but smiles genuinely. "I do. Look, Quinn. The past is the past, I guess, and I don't want us to be at each others' throats. So let's just agree that shit happened and it sucked and move on to bigger and better things. I'm finally ready to do that, I think. And you'll get there too."

She nods her head and pats his arm. "Thank you, Finn," she whispers. "You really are a good guy." She nods again before padding out the door and he falls backward onto the mattress, settling his arms behind his head. He doesn't know what prompted that, but he's not complaining. So _this_is the closure they actually needed; he'd been wrong before. But he'd also forgiven her before and he figures he might as well do it again. Especially since he knows where his heart lies now and nothing is going to distract him from that.

Nothing.

* * *

It's a little over a week after they return home when it happens. He's on his way to the Pick N' Save for some M&M's, since for whatever reason, he's got a crazing for them. But since it's nice out and stuff, he decides to walk. Besides, Kurt's always telling him about carbon emissions and other eco-warrior stuff like that and he figures it's as good a way as any to pay his brother back for not telling anyone about yet another porn collection he'd discovered. He should probably be more creative, shouldn't he?

Whatever.

Anyway, he's walking down the sidewalk—or as much of a sidewalk as this part of Lima actually has—when he sees this mural on the side of a building (he thinks it's the old library). It's not that impressive or detailed, but it hits home 'cause dead center is this huge, bright yellowish star and he's pretty sure his heart actually gets stuck in his throat.

And the thing is, even though it's yellow, he gets it. It's supposed to be gold, but he's sure gold paint is more expensive than yellow paint—do they make gold paint? It doesn't matter.

What matters is that everything _clicks._ Around the star is a vast, dark sky, supporting it, holding it up. Rachel's a star, always going to be a star. She shines a little brighter than everyone else, but that's how it's supposed to be. But he wants, like, _really_ wants to be like that sky—supporting her endlessly and no matter what. And even though can do that as her friend, he can't _really_do that, not to all the extents they both need. So he walks to it quickly, marking it as hers, which ultimately makes it theirs if he has any say in it.

But he finds himself running in the opposite direction—to her house—because he hopes what she said hasn't changed. He hopes she's still waiting for him. Because he's done running and done not knowing what to do. _Rachel_ is what to do. _Oh._ Not like _that _(well, hopefully someday like that, but that's neither here nor there so shut up, okay?). He needs to see her.

He's only slightly out of breath when he reaches her front door, pounding almost furiously until she opens it, a little surprised. But she smiles when she greets him. "Finn? Hello! What—what are you doing here? It's nice to see you though!"

"I need to talk to you," he says seriously. Her expression changes and then he says, "No, it's not bad. I'm ninety-nine and a half percent sure it's not bad."

"Oh." She brightens considerably and motions for him to follow her upstairs. He takes a seat on her bed next to her and exhales slowly. Here goes nothing.

Scratch that, it's kind of everything, but he's got nothing to lose now because _this is it._

"I love you," he starts. But he before she can respond, he continues, "and I forgave you a while ago, not gonna lie. The forgiving wasn't the hard part. It was the part about how even though you cheated on me, I was still thinking about you all the time and how much I cared about you just wouldn't go away. And I thought I should start looking for some answers because it was just all so _confusing._And things with Quinn—they were always different. I didn't have to think or feel or whatever. I just—we were just Finn and Quinn. And we cared about each other, sure, but there was never anything as deep as what I feel for you. So it didn't hurt as bad." The last part comes out quietly.

"I guess I just needed a push in the right direction—Quinn lying to you about all that stuff, I mean. But admittedly, I shouldn't." He takes her hand, entwining their fingers and admiring the way they fit together momentarily before continuing. "Anyway, I've been struggling for the last few weeks with how all this should go, but today, I just—it all _fits_, Rachel. _We fit._"

He pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and brings up the picture he took of the mural, showing it to her. "It's probably stupid or something, but I was walking and I saw this and obviously you were the first thing I thought of, but then I realized just because you're going to be a star and I don't know what I want to do with my life yet doesn't mean I can't be there for you and it definitely doesn't mean I don't _want_ to be there for you. I _do._"

He watches her face carefully as he turns toward her all the way. "I know there are a lot of things I'm probably never going to be good at. But I'm good when it comes to loving you, and—and that's what I want to do. I mean, you wanna go to New York, right?" She nods. "Right, and my only definite goal is to get the hell outta this town. And New York—well, I liked it there a lot. I really did. And I probably won't get into a really fancy school there, but my report card came in the mail this week and my grades are a lot better and if I keep it up, I can get in somewhere, right? And I was thinking, I'm pretty good at sports and I like kids, so if things with school don't work out immediately—'cause my mom told me how expensive it can be to go to college out of state—maybe I could help coach, like, little league, or football or _anything_ until I figure out exactly what I wanna do. All I know right now is that I _love_you and I wanna be with you. And if you wanna be with me too, I'll do my best to make sure you're as happy as you can be with me."

He takes another deep breath, waiting to gauge her reaction, but she leaps on him, almost knocking him over as her arms band tightly around him and she buries her face into his neck. He feels the hot tears against his skin and strokes her back lovingly until she finds the words she wants to say.

When she pulls back, he's almost blown away by how absolutely beautiful she looks. Sure, her eyes are a little red and her hair is sorta messy, but her eyes—they're so bright and shiny and she looks just how he feels and he's pretty sure this means good things for both of them. "I love you, Finn. And I _do_ want to be with you—regardless of whether or not you decide New York is where you want to go immediately after school. But I'm flattered and—and _honored_that you're even thinking of it just for me. Can I see that picture again?"

He holds up his phone. "I even wrote your name on it with a Sharpie I had in my pocket," he whispers, pointing at a barely discernable black scribble on the edge of one of the points. "And I know that's like vandalism or whatever," he says before she can scold him, if that's what she intends to do. "But come on, Rach, it's _perfect._ I even wrote _my_name on the sky part 'cause that's how I wanna be for you—just all around supporting and never-ending—you just can't see it that well 'cause the writing is black on dark blue. But I promise it's there."

He leans into her touch as she brushes her thumbs over his cheeks and whispers back, "It _is_perfect, Finn. I—I…" She doesn't finish her sentence—which is unusual for her—and he would be more concerned if his mouth wasn't suddenly occupied by hers.

Oh, and he gets to kiss her now whenever and there's no awkwardness and it's just…this is the way things are supposed to be, he's sure of it.

Before he knows it though, she's straddling his lap and his hands that are at her waist are suddenly moving. He breaks away to watch where she's placing his hands, and they're moving down past her butt to her thighs and back up again until they're resting on her ass, _under her skirt_. "Rachel?" he croaks.

But she doesn't say anything and instead resumes kissing him heatedly, her tongue tracing the contours of the roof of his mouth. And again she doesn't say anything when his hands slip under the band of her underwear, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of her butt and okay, this is _actually_happening and she just moaned all breathy into his mouth and he can't help but let out a groan.

And then she's grinding her hips down into his and if he wasn't hard before (which he was) he definitely is now and there's _no way_ she can't feel that, but she's still not saying anything and just nipping at his neck which means she probably likes it which also probably means _she's_ turned on as well and _Oh God this is real._

"Finn." She sighs out his name and he grunts in response, staring up at her in wonder as she pulls away to look at him, her chest rising and falling. "I…"

But he just sits up and pulls her to him, kissing her temple. "You're awesome, Rachel. Just…just don't think I need you to—to, I mean, I want you to be comfortable and…"

She places a finger over his lips, effectively silencing him, as she whispers, "I know. And I respect that. I still don't want to go too far yet, but we've both grown up a lot since we broke up and now that we're back together…"

"Now that we're back together…" he prompts.

"You _are_ sure this is what you want, right? That _I_ am? Because I _need_you to be sure." Her voice is all soft and a little vulnerable, but for the first time he knows he can fix that.

"I'm sure, Rachel. I've known for a long time that it's you. It was never you I was unsure of, really. It was me. But I'm in a place now where I'm comfortable with myself—at least comfortable enough to know I don't have to or want to be miserable. You're it for me, Rachel. Whatever you decide to do or not do, and wherever you decide to go or not go, _you_are what I want. And I promise you I'm sure, just like I promised I wouldn't lie to you ever again."

She sniffles a little and leans into him again. "I won't lie either and I've known that it's you for a long time, too. Thank you for coming to me, Finn," she breathes.

He chuckles a little. "It really wasn't a problem at all. I love you," he says again, just 'cause he can and he likes saying it. And now he doesn't need a reason or excuse and there are no _buts._It's just him and Rachel and love and just being together.

"I love you too, Finn." And he likes hearing her say it back just as much as he likes saying it. So it's a win all around.

Then she kisses him again and it's like in the movies—all passionate and loving. Except it's better 'cause it's real life. _Rachel_ is real life. _His_real life.

He has no idea how he ended up this lucky, but he's totally grateful for it. And will spend the next however many years he's alive proving it.

And that's as good a life plan as any, right?

Yeah, he thinks so too.

* * *

_So? What are your thoughts? Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoyed it, just like I hope you all enjoy tonight's prom episode. And to all of you who I talk to on twitter and/or tumblr, thank you for inspiring me and nagging me to get this finished. I love you all. oh and all the chapter titles come from the song "Flower" by Amos Lee and it's awesome. And the story title comes from "Love Needs a Heart" by Jackson Browne. thank you all again! :)_


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